These Binds That Tie Us
by VinylTearsFortheBroken
Summary: The war is over and life continues, mundane and painful for one Hinata Hyuuga. But when demons start popping out of the woodwork claiming her to be the 'Daemon Cantrix', how long can she scramble to keep her worlds from colliding, and just how far will the ripples reach when it all finally comes to a head? \HinataxNaruto\ OCx?
1. there's no smoke without fire

**AN:** This fic is growing its own plot. TWENTY SEVEN PAGES ON WORD WITHOUT MY BRAIN CONSULTING MY FINGERS. _TWENTY SEVEN_. I'm pretty sure I have no idea what I'm getting into, but I have most everything planned out. Mostly. I'll just see where the heck this story takes me, ne?

**WARNING:** This story is very Hinata-OC-centric and will be told from mainly their POVs, unless something deviates from my master plan—which is probably likely—this is the golden rule. Sorry to those who don't care much for OCs, I'm mainly using mine partly as a tool anyways *laughs sheepishly*

**PS.** Sorry again to those who don't like OC pairings, but it's kind of important to the whole plot thing and character growth—besides, my story, my rules. It sounds harsh, but if you don't like it, lump it. And don't worry, I have no fangirly intentions of self-insert or living through my OC, I'm pretty much just interested in how I'm going to challenge my writing abilities to cultivate the relationships and get them to the points I want. Flames build character anyway, no?

**Disclaimer:** Couldn't own Naruto if I tried. 'Sall Masashi Kishimoto's, though I do own Tsumibitoko no Youkai, Masao Tanaka and a few others that may or may not appear later on in the grand scheme. Who the frick knows, with my runaway brain. So keep your grubby mits off.

**Little something's I listened to while writing this:** Fences by Paramore, Let the Flames Begin by Paramore, In the Cold by Acceptance and You Found Me by The Fray.

**Edited slightly - 30/05/2012**

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**These Binds that Tie Us **_**or**_** Shatter the Preconceptions**  
{Chapter One: There's No Smoke Without Fire}  
_arc I : hand on the gate_

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_The definition 'curse' is a powerful one in itself, a hateful one. 'The expression of a wish that evil, ect. befall another', 'to wish or invoke evil, calamity, ect.' expresses an undeniable loathing…or, as is in this case, the violent betrayal of the trust of an already spiteful woman._

_It's the age-old cliché really. A classic case of 'man who can't keep it in his pants dooms his lineage to the torment he so ran from and despised'. _

_A demon male, bored and restless in matehood, betrays his mate for another demon. A fickle young demon he was, so curious of mating that he hurried into one without thought and grew weary of it. His mate smelt proof of his careless betrayal upon him and exacted her revenge. Let it be known to never betray a demon priestess—for she cursed his lineage to forever be burdened with what he so ran from in a divine play of irony._

_Bonds._

_For dirtying her trust, for staining the tie that bound them forever to one another, for breaking the fragile loyalty that is so hard to build in demon-kind—as they were still joined together in their matehood, for forever and a day even in betrayal and hatred—she cursed his line (and hers subsequently, but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned) to the depths of despair. Taking their independence, their freedom—and in many cases, their sanity—battering their pride, tearing at their willpower, reducing it to dust and hopeless tears. She bound them to bonds—to the thing her mate had ran from. Never say that these 'holy' demonesses and demons of the chaos-gods (deity's worshipped reverently by some demons) did not have a sense of humor. A little dark and twisted, but humor, all the same. Justice in its most perverse, but deserved, form._

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**_"_**_**I**_**_ curse you; mate, in all forms of the word. I howl to the chaos-gods and bind you in your treachery to a wretched existence for all eternity—dragging your pitiful blood and spawn with you to the icy reaches of the seventh circle of human-hell. Bonds you so ran from, matehood you so scorn in your betrayal, trust you so desecrated and stained upon me in your wickedness—you will be cursed with that which you so broke. _**

**_Bonds you may run from, ties you may hide, they will reach for you in impossible ways—they will burn themselves a brand on you and your brood, taking liberty from your clutches to be held in another's hands. I bind you to each torment possible to demon kind. You and your ill-bred spawn can run, run, run till eternity sets in the sky but will forever be attached against spirit for your sickening betrayal._**

**_I bind you and your line, my mate, to a nomadic life—bereft of demonic contact through sin of human kind._**

**_I bind you and your line, my mate, to a human of Daemon Cantrix—be they cruel or just—they shall be found through the smoke screen of myth and lore._**

**_I bind you and your line, miserable excuse for a demon, to an _**_**Intima Compar**_**_._**

**_I curse you…for your betrayal of my trust and our matehood."_**

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**_PRESENT DAY_**

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**_Western Rain Country, close to the border of Fire, in the large, mining, ore-exporting town of Kinishutsu_**

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Diluted morning sunlight spilled past drifting white linen curtains, rustling in the warm sunshine and fresh air as cheerful bird calls trilled quietly through the open bay windows. The room was decidedly a mess. Misleadingly boring snowy sheets spilled across the beige carpet from the king bed, deceptive to their true extravagant price. Silk draperies hung from majestic dark wood that made up the beds frame, the hangings pushed back so as to leave the view of its occupants unobstructed. The room was surprisingly open, windows thrown wide and vulnerable to the cool morning air. Unexpectedly defenseless, considering the monetary power its current inhabitant wielded. A power many would easily kill for.

Daichi Yukareshi, a young man in the prime of his life. Young, handsome, rich, soon to be heir of his father's prominent—and _legitimate_, let's not forget the most important detail in such a corrupt country—business. He was living the high life. Not to mention the gorgeous dame his dad had secured him as a fiancé to merge two powerful families into a single high-powered, money-making, heir-producing machine. Not bad for twenty-one, some bitter old coots might scoff.

Too bad he was an ungrateful little brat that hid his freaky addiction to sex and dominance from his family. It was undoubtedly his downfall, in the end.

Sunlight captured a hot, orange glow as the ashen tip of a cigarette was drawn deeply upon, before being expelled in a slightly annoyed sigh of smoky wisps of grey.

"Fucking brat gave me back ache." A vaguely pissed-off voice grumbled, rough from years of tobacco consumption and toned at a low register. Deceptively—like the soft sheets and the idiot heir and goddamn cheery morning—warm and slightly nonchalant.

Daichi Yukareshi may have been an arrogant, naïve shithead—but he sure made a damn good lay, Tsumibitoko could give the twat that one. Too bad she felt practically no physical attraction whatsoever—other than his apparent skill, (_that_ she could acknowledge, even if it did nothing for her) it had been a little disappointing. Underwhelming. Boring. Unsatisfactory. Whatever you wanted to label it.

She'd anticipated a little bit more on the seducing side from such a notorious—yet well hidden from those who mattered, how he pulled _that_ one off, she'd never know—playboy. He'd just sauntered up after a few flirtatious, challenging, fake-hot glances across the room, expecting her to give it all up on a silver platter. Like he wouldn't even have to work a _little_. The pompous ass was just lucky putting out had been part of her plan, else she'd have knocked him down a few notches on the arrogance scale. A few good punches aughta have done it.

Too bad the fucker was dead now.

Man, some of the kinky shit he'd suggested and made her do? Ass deserved all he got in the end. Some of that crap would've sent his one night stands crying home, off-their-face-sauced and feeling insanely violated. (They really weren't kidding about that dominance shit. She wondered vaguely if there had been something in his past to provoke such a want to extend power over women, maybe he'd been sexually abused as a kid by a nanny or something—put in a situation where he had no control.) She didn't pity the fucker, even in his deceased state, that was for sure.

Tsumibitoko patted the cold body beside her, "Repent your sins, young horny-fuck. Let's just hope God's feeling lenient for your little _transgressions_." A barking laughter, hoarse and amused and ironic and bitter, broke the fresh, silent air as she snorted and took another drag before glancing down at the prone young man with a slightly disgusted pull of lip beneath indifferent eyes. She stared at closed, pale, blue veined eyelids, the sickly pallor of death on his almost-peaceful face—blood marring his throat in a long, merciless gash and soaking the sheets, pillows and mattress beside her.

"Hey!" She grinned a crooked smirk, jostling the bed and she bounced down at a bent angle so they'd be face to face, even if he was lying on his side where she sat against the wooden headboard. Crossing ever-so-slightly tanned arms on the sheet-clad mattress, Tsumibitoko leant her chin on them and got close in his once-personal-space-face, cigarette hanging limp from between her fore and middle finger over to one side. "Wanna know a secret?"

_Oh hell yeah I'm doing girl-talk with a corpse._ Her grin widened and she leaned forwards ever so slightly in a conspiring fashion, not even wrinkling her nose at the slight odor of death and blood that would soon become one motherfucka of a potent stench.

Then, she whispered, voice hard, uncaring, yet slightly disgusted—a stark contrast to her earlier nonchalant, vaguely amused tones. "You didn't even get me off once. The last girl you fucked before you died, and a man-whore like you couldn't even make me orgasm. Shameful, doncha think?"

Then she laughed again, the sound mocking; throwing her head back a little as she turned away and hauled bare legs over the side of the mussed bed. She tucked the cigarette between her lips and stretched like a sinuous cat in his old scuffed too-big t-shirt, plucking at it in faint distain before peeling it off over her head in one smooth movement. Slipping upwards to her feet without so much as a backward glance, Tsumibitoko tossed the ratty shirt to one side and began to pick her own clothes from the whirlwind disaster that had been one-sided lust. Good thing she could act, else she might've puked.

Simple lacy blacks, scraps of shitty fabric in all honesty, but good for a job like this, made up her underwear—the murderess absentmindedly made a note to buy proper, tough-shit underwear soon. The kind of containing, supporting stuff that could hold its own in her rough lifestyle and not distract her with digging in wires and bouncing cleavage fit to burst. _A fighter is only as good as their undergarments,_ she nodded mock-sagely—tugging on the loose, but fitting black t-shirt with short sleeves that declared the obnoxious white slogan of 'I'm silent, like a masturbating ninja'. She hadn't been willing to give up her precious catchphrase t-shirts last night—they were a part of who she was—so there was no way she'd ditch them simply to be sexy and seductive for such a jerk, thank-you very much. Besides, her lower half did the job well enough. If her uninspiring torso—despite the hinted jugs and sleek waist—didn't attract attention (the sort she _wanted_ for this job, not the 'the frick?' attention she normally got with her…fashion sense) then the outlandish fabric cladding her legs and hips would.

Forest green short-shorts sat un-restraining and comfortable on her waist, followed by light green and dark green horizontally striped tights, till black boots that touched a quarter of the way up her calves finished the look. They were padded heavily and freaking foot-gasmic on her feet, with simple, easy Velcro straps. One human thing she never quite got the hang off was those damn deathtraps called laces.

Her job had been simple, in all truth. Her employer, behind many unknown aliases, had contacted her over the course of a few weeks—apparently testing her ability to be vaguely trustworthy under a situation of mutual benefit—before paying her to pull off the taking down of his obviously rival company. She didn't much care who the hell her brief-boss was, though he must've been the head of some other richy-rich corporation, why else would he want her to destroy the company's social and business standing and kill off the heir?

He'd let her do it her way, apparently a little surprised when she suggested her plan—not expecting a girl 'her age' (que snort at ignorance) to simply throw around sex like that, and be willing to do it for the job. He was obviously snooty in that respect. But it was perfect, really, so he hadn't dared question.

She'd easily planted a well-known reporter not a few doors down, tipping the man off about Daichi's little tryst with some woman other than his fiance. He'd snapped at it eagerly, and was obviously staking out his room not far away, waiting for the couple to make an appearance. Tsumibitoko glanced about the room in vague satisfaction. It was blatantly obvious to even the most obtuse of observers that some serious sex had occurred, what with the stained sheets and that splattered chair in the corner too—there were drugs and cigarettes and dripping bottles of whiskey discarded on most surfaces. It would _destroy_ the reputation of Daichi and of his fathers company, it would stain his fiancés honor and her father would no doubt wage consumer warfare on the young mans own dad—for letting this happen to his daughter. And if _that_ wasn't enough to sink the ship that was the soon-to-be-going-out-of-business company, her chakra was _everywhere_.

Ever since she'd off-ed the brat in his sleep, she just leaked the stuff subtly into her surroundings—something a low-class demon would do without even thinking if caught in the 'throws of passion'. It would be blatantly obvious that the boy had dabbled in the 'dark side', so to speak. It would incite disgust and fear among the masses, that such a charming, well known lad had descended to such a depraved level—perhaps jealousy from others.

There were many rumors and tales for behind beers and margaritas in bars, about what it was like once you got a demon in your bedroom. Apparently nothing compared—which always made Tsumibitoko smirk smugly. It was 'wild and animalistic and explosive'. In other tales they marked you possessively and permanently, as a warning that said to further rare demons that may come along, 'this is _mine_'. Even in the depths of _depths_ of those who rejected such dominance and said to despise Youkai, they secretly liked the idea of being taken as such by a demon. She'd seen it before when many talked of such things; body language told what their mouths wouldn't. Another factor that cemented Demons dominance over Humans. They _wanted_ demons.

_We_**_ are_**_ said to be hideously and aggressively sexy_, Tsumibitoko smirked darkly, _inciting that primal need. Then again…all the best hunters are attractive to their prey._ It was probably the subconscious dominance that came with the demonic aura, the power and sin that soaked their beings. The countless years of experience were probably all that gave Demons such a rep really—sexual prowess didn't just come with the trade of being a Youkai. Most demons had probably just been doing it for years. Lots of practice was all. There weren't many demons that came out of hiding to integrate and slip among the human race anyway, but those who did never left.

Tsumibitoko's smirk wavered slightly, before slipping off entirely.

She shook her head a little, drifting back into her thought stream as she checked over the set-up surroundings. Demons were a fad most likely. For a quite a few years, finding and getting a demon to bed has been a bit of a goal for drunken humans. Just a fad that would become one of the many others. It was shocking how naïve these mortals were, actively searching for Youkai to have them at their most vulnerable and naked. Didn't they know that even the weakest of demons could rip their throats out without so much as overextending themselves? Or was that just another kink, the danger of it all?

Tsumibitoko was caught between preening and sneering in disgust at their stupidity. She even felt, to her horrified anger, a little worried. Their self-preservation was seriously lacking in such a dangerous world.

Where bandits and missing-nin ran amok, humans had become complacent in their safety as a given. That their own ninja would protect them. Didn't they realize that most of the dangers to them were _by_ their own shinobi? Hence, '_missing-nin_'. Their own ninja who had abandoned them in favor of freedom from the regime of a village?

Sometimes humanity sickened her in ways that wanted to make her just kill them all for their own safety and her satisfaction. Either that or become celibate. She felt lucky as hell that pregnancy by a mortal was impossible with her…problems.

Ignoring the sex-mussed mop of once-straight black hair that tumbled around her cheeks, Tsumibitoko scrubbed her long, side-swept, scraggly bangs out of her face, stopping the hair from tangling with her similarly dark, thick, short lashes and getting in road-dust brown eyes. Blinking slowly and taking a deep breath, she released the henge, uncaring of those who may see through the windows, letting it ripple over her like water without the usual attention-grabbing puff of white smoke.

It blended over her hair, transforming the once, would-be sleek obsidian into rough, earthen, wild brown. A single forelock scuffed over to the right from the middle of her hairline and short, rough, sprigs edged the nape of her neck. Feral, untamed, flyaway spikes framed her features, raised in a surprisingly un-natural and demonic fashion—a long thin slick of brown springing from the base of her head and tied back with a black clasp. The chakra shimmered over her skin in tingles, turning it a natural, russet brown—revealing a neat, sharp nose and thin lips framing a small, permanently down-turned, serious mouth—set just right for frowning and glaring but with virtually no bottom lip, fuller top lip, and no color to emphasize shape or texture other than her natural tan tone. Tsumibitoko knew this and didn't mind, because even when she scowled—dark, long, thin brows perfect for such an activity, that always set themselves in a frown anyway, without any input from her brain—it just seemed to emphasize her eyes and the smooth point of her chin, a soft line from ear to the tip of her jaw.

It was her eyes that were the real drawing point though, she had no illusions.

Starbursts of gold in her russet brown appearance, tanned skin and dark hair—they lit up like candles and shone like burnished bullion. They were decidedly more Tsurime that Tareme, heavy lidded in a bored, serious fashion and tapered to a sharp point of upturned lashes—the same dark, short, thick lashes as before—irises smoldering golden beneath. She wasn't stupid enough to think her appearance unique amoungst Youkai—though to humans it would be exotically so—it was just a statement of the _kind_ of demon she was. Every demon in her subcategory had appearances as such. Green or brown or gold or dusty tan or burnt cinnamon.

Demons of the Earth.

Simply the soul of every terrain distilled into something almost human to look upon and wild to fight against. Youkai of the earth were solid and steadfast, stubborn and as varyingly remarkable as the ground itself, as mountains and sand and grass and dirt, right down to the molten core of metals and larva and pure, blinding heat.

She was very obviously demonic in this form, human but…not. Elongated fangs, almost vampiric and ever so slightly curved, tapered to wicked points that virtually touched her lower gums behind slim lips. They emphasized her wild appearance rather liberally, especially when her left sharp tooth caught on her lower lip as she grinned rakishly, like she was doing now, before running her tongue over them in relief at having the familiar canines back to normal and not hazed by the sensory disruption of henge. Her ears tapered to similar points, almost elfish, protruding from being tucked away beneath her brunette hair. Small, minuscule changes from the human norm that made her race distinct.

Tsumibitoko wrinkled her nose and tugged the collar of her shirt to her face for a sniff, almost gagging before dragging the long tail of her hair over her shoulder and sniffing that too. She _stunk_ of alcohol and drugs and sweat and pure, old-fashioned illicit debauchery. But most of all, she smelt of _him_.

Every human had a base scent, something to build on with everyday things like dirt and shampoo and soap and whatever comes with your trade—she herself smelt of fresh dirt and grass and clean air, the kind of refreshing, pure stuff you only find in wide open spaces, like fields. Not to mention that little demonic spice. But, right now—covering all that—was the stink of…well…it was hard to really put names to scents…but, if she had to for this one, there was a warm, musky undertone of human skin and something almost vinegar-y—probably some posh cologne. It stung her nose and made the insides of her mouth and jaw tighten in that tingly way you feel when you're going to be ill.

She needed to wash it off. Preferably once she was far away into the forest and traveling again, after she picked up her money for the job. It wouldn't be too good to get caught in this rather compromising situation right now.

Performing another quick, basic, virtually undetectable mud-henge from the dirt in the room and on her skin, Tsumibitoko shimmered into a busty, sleep-rumpled blonde. Pretty, with seductive blue eyes, but clad in long-sleeve, button down pajamas that sat a size too big on her frame. Nothing saucy at all. Perfect for the naive damsel in distress persona she needed. It helped that she modified her scent a little with another minor genjutsu, to hide beneath the dainty scent of flowers and fragrant water.

Clearing her throat and sucking in a deep breath, the demon girl prepared herself for some serious acting. Flicking her cigarette on Daichi's body and giving him one last cheery wave—knowing the DNA on the tip of the cigarette would pop up 'DEMON' on any diagnostic jutsu—Tsumibitoko strolled casually out the door, sharply aware of how this could all go to hell (part of the attraction to the job really, the _adrenaline_, god she loved it) using it to fuel herself for the distraught part she was about to play.

Slipping down the hall she drew in another deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and repeated the calming action a few times as she finally stopped two doors down—he _had_ to buy this, she had to lie her little henge-gorgeous ass off _as of now_—and began banging violently on the white wood in front of her.

"Help! Help! O-Oh god, you've _got to help me_!" Her voice cracked as she yelled, voice trembling and tears trickling down her cheeks, wailing and sobbing and slamming her fists desperately against the door. _Lil' drama queen I am, heh. _A few crashes and surprised bangs on the other side, followed by running footsteps announced she was being listened to, before the door was thrown open to show a man in his late twenties—clad in white t-shirt and boxers with wildly disarrayed brown hair. A professional photography camera was slung around his neck messily and various reels of those camera film things were in his hands. His worried, intrigued expression morphed to shock as she threw herself into his arms unabashedly—causing the man to drop all his supplies as he caught her, the camera digging uncomfortably into her chest and throat.

Ignoring it, Tsumibitoko managed to sob out, "Y-You're J-J-Juinji Mukeboto r-right? Th-that famous j-journalist? I-I s-saw you ch-check in last night! Y-You have to help me!" It would be natural, in such a distressed state, for one to run to something familiar—he, in this case—and with her excuse of watching him check in, she'd naturally know his room number. Plus, Mukeboto might think her a fan for observing him so closely, making the man more inclined towards 'helping' her (assisting her in more ways than he'd ever know). And she doubted having all those henged curves pressed up against him—furthermore making him stutter like a school boy, which was part disturbing, disdainful-eye-roll-inducing and amusing—would hurt her chances.

"O-Okay…uhm," the man was obviously at a loss as to what he should do, glancing around the hallway where a couple of curious and annoyed heads were poking out their doors. "How about you come inside and tell me what happened, hm?"

_Yes! Score one for curiosity-killed-the-cat! Trust him to be a 'nice guy'! Oh man, payday is a commin'!_

Hurriedly ushered in and seated on the plush couch before a cluttered coffee table, she refused to let go of his white t-shirt, leaving him to pry her hands off with consoling words to close the door—before leaning against it and frowning at her a little in pure bewilderment.

"What on _earth_ is wrong?"

Deciding to cut to the chase, since she was already kinda bored with how easy he was to trick, Tsumibitoko clenched her now small, pale hands in her dark blue pants.

"I-I was down the hall, i-in my room…wh-when I d-decided to g-go for a walk a-around the h-hotel 'cause I couldn't sleep an-and I wanted to t-tired myself out, so I c-could sl-sleep in…I-I…I h-heard these w-weird noises coming from room seventeen and—…" She choked off and covered her mouth in horror, throwing him a wild, teary eyed glance, so vulnerable that the man moved forwards to sit beside her. _Sucker._

"Shh…it's okay…tell me what happened…" Oh, yes, she sees the hungry look in his eyes. Not just for a potential story, but for her. This form was _perfect_.

"W-Well…I was worried, b-because th-there seemed to b-be a struggle going on wh-when I walked p-past…so…I-I waited f-for a while, 'cause I was a b-bit scared and w-wondered if it was an-any of my business…" At this point she buried her face in his shoulder, trembling hands twisted in his shirt as she let out a sob, "I-I…I could've saved him! I-If I'd gone in…I could've sa-saved him!"

She burst into renewed tears, as he held her closer a stroked the back of her head with ink-stained hands. She could feel him getting a little grope in while he thought she wasn't noticing due to her emotional state, and Tsumibitoko wondered in a slightly disgruntled fashion if he wasn't as nice a guy as she'd first thought. _What a sleaze-ball._

"Who? Could've saved who?" There was a barely restrained itching curiosity in Mukeboto's words and Tsumibitoko pulled back, drilling the full force of her watery blue eyes into his, her voice barely a whisper—but with a horrified power, like she was still struck by what she'd seen. _T__his is too fun!_ "If I'd gone in sooner _Daichi Yukareshi_ wouldn't have _bled his throat out _into the sheets of his _bed_…" Then she choked back into sobs.

Maybe a little thespian, but, _oh_ did it have the desired effect: highly amusing pandemonium.

One of her specialties _and_ favorites.

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**_Chaos Theory:_**

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**_The Butterfly Effect_**

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It'd been all too easy.

'Terrified' as she'd acted in her blonde henge; Tsumibitoko had led Mukeboto back to the room for the confirmation needed before they could call the police. She'd put up the necessary 'valiant, outranged protests'—not enough to deter him, she made sure of that—when he'd immediately started snapping pictures, muttering about how the contact that'd said something would go down in this hotel had just given him the scoop of the century. Little did he know she was standing right behind him, crying pitifully, while smirking a satisfied demonic, treacherous smirk when he wasn't looking. Oh god, she wanted to laugh.

The shameless, money-grabbing journalist—_abiding to the cliché by all terms and without reservation,_ Tsumibitoko thought wryly—had written down _everything_. The drugs, the sex, the alcohol, the cigarettes, the death, her own comments, the demonic aura that permeated the air strong enough for even a _civilian_ to sense—and once the demon girl figured her ditz persona would about now realize she could call the police herself, the damage had been done.

Mukeboto would slip away with his gear and his story while she went for a phone—and he'd simply become just another one of the eager writer masses at the press conference later on (albeit more smug and knowing). She had chosen him as a plant well, he knew how to skirt his way around. Wily sunnovabitch.

Tsumibitoko had talked to the police on the phone, saying it was an anonymous tip-off, because she was 'too scared to see them in person for fear of retaliation'—then disappeared into thin air. They'd searched for her, of course. Sent out messages saying that she'd be _safe_, as long as she came to them to give a full testimony and told them everything, but she never did. Pointless to her job.

Two days later, Juinji Mukeboto published his slanderous front page story—snuck it out before Daichi's rich-ass, grieving and panicked father could buy him or his newspaper company off.

There had been suspicions, duh—considering her own dicey part in it all and 'who the mysterious blonde was'. Why she hadn't told the police about Juinji being there, how she disappeared like smoke. _Was she a jealous ex-lover? A malicious spirit? A Ninja Village conspiracy?_ and a number of silly myths floated through the cogs of every day society like rumor vapor, but none guessed the truth. Who would? _A demon acting out a part 'cause she was on a job—since she's a mercenary—for her own gain?_ What a load of crock.

Her job completed, rumors and disgust and jealousy and 'how could we not have known?' rife among the masses, Tsumibitoko was prepared to pick up her payroll—_she'd done all she could_—but, you see, then _fate_ decided to play a little game…_women_ began to come out of the woodwork.

Not even Tsumibitoko saw that one coming; still, she nearly shat herself laughing when she found out the snowball effect that Mukeboto's blaring, accusing, going-down-in-history article started. Daichi's father could write off the circumstances of his son's death, yes—he could've saved his company, pulled it back from the brink in a 0.1% chance—but he could _never_ have been able to write off all those sincere, frightened women who wanted to tell their own stories. Women Daichi had slept with, women he had treated horribly and done unspeakable things to—too scared to previously say anything with his powerful position that he'd threatened them with—then, emboldened by success, men he'd blackmailed, doctors he'd forced to supply him with illegal prescriptions and drugs, all his contacts in the underbelly of their sin-diseased world were made clear as day due to _one – little – tenacious – reporter_. Juinji Mukeboto.

Story of his career indeed.

He'd latched onto it in ways Tsumibitoko couldn't have imagined—he'd wondered if there was more to it than he thought and _searched_, and she thanked him for it—because it wasn't longer than a few months (she'd get the last installment of pay early, woo-hoo!) before the business was under; submerged in debts and financial ruin. Due to hasty, slap-dash decisions that had been intended to salvage and failed spectacularly, lack of consumers and the head-cheeses own grief—the mighty tower of his industry collapsed into finely powdered dust around his feet. The culmination of his life's work and his son, buried in the ground before him.

Tsumibitoko's pockets were _lined_ with cash.

It'd been all too easy.

_What a lucky break, ne?_

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**_SEVEN MONTHS LATER_**

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**_Northern Rain Country, close to the border of Earth Country, in the city of Tsumaranai_**

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Masao Tanaka was a powerful man.

He all but ruled over most business chains, be it fast-food, hotels, ninja-equipment stores—if anything was successful, he was sure to have sat on the board of directors. He had contacts with daimyo's and royalty enough to fill a whole filing cabinet—if there was to be a party in any imperial palace; it was not complete without the charming man. He had the trade of all countries in the palm of his hand—a damn sight better than his once piteous rival, Gato, in Wave Country. He could bring the retail world to a screeching, crashing halt with but a wave of his hand—send lands into poverty, into starvation and lack of essential necessities. His investments and stocks were almost sixth sense with insight to the business and financial world. He was a man made for industry. For power. To a frightening degree.

It was safe to say then, that Masao Tanaka had a hand in almost every criminal deal this side of the equator.

Be it through a subordinate, a spy, a plant—no discussion, or sale, went by under his radar—he orchestrated half himself in fact, all to eventually be to his own benefit and gain, of course. There was no woman he couldn't bed, no man he could not buy out, and he was, by rule, a very arrogant male specimen. Not surprising really, when the financial world might very well keel over into recession without him there to oversee things.

He was also, right at this very moment, a rather smugly _satisfied_ specimen of male.

One of his biggest contenders in the mining ring had just been crushed by, and, he was delightedly amused to say, a teenage girl.

Of course, he knew for fact this was only appearance. She was a fearsome _demon_ girl—though not above persuasion, obviously. He only had to offer her enough money and she took the job on board. He very nearly turned his nose up at how far her race had fallen (not that he'd ever say as such to her face, despite being all-powerful pseudo-God), for the girl was truly frightening. She knew things, had seen things, had _done_ things that he would never know—despite his best efforts to know everything—and…well, if she could do _that_ to the Yukareshi Cooperation in a matter of months all through public opinion, he almost swallowed nervously at what she could potentially do to his own empire if she turned on him.

Not to say she'd be able to touch him, no, no—he had _too_ much under his palm for her to really do any damage. But there was an aura of intimidation and rough-suave swagger to her stance and walk borne of something he couldn't really grasp for the life of him. And that was what she was, a mystery.

But still, the demon girl was a dangerous possibility all the same, and Masao Tanaka was a man who plowed through _all_ in the way of his ambition. She could prove to be a very large, very worrisome road block or a brilliant ally. She may be one girl, but she was _demon_, and he was not a man who underestimated his opponents.

It would be a shame to rid the ninja nations of one such as her, as he had heard the stories just as any mortal—some of them sending a shiver of fear or desire down his spine, enough to incite the insatiable curiosity humankind was so known for. But, this was one novelty, or experience, he was prepared to let go—for the sake of his monetary empire. Masao was a man of steel willpower, if anything.

Therefore, he was to rid himself of this potential threat the best way he knew how—deception, intelligence, manipulation, betrayal, money and a safe distance from the danger.

He'd sent his _best_ nuke-nin on this job. A privilege he rarely paid his enemies. A simple, highly-rewarded civilian actor decoy was to meet the demon girl at some cheap, Chinese restaurant in his name, give her the final installment from her last job, and tell her Masao was impressed with her work—so much so, in fact, that he wanted to give her another little loose end to tie up. The decoy would keep her talking long enough to get her to relax _marginally_ (for he knew she'd never fully), and that's when his Nin would strike.

A few civilians would most likely perish in the crossfire, but he'd specifically chosen his men to be adept at close-quarters fighting, perfect for indoors. That and, Masao was sure the demon girl's attacks were nature based of some sort, being isolated from said environment might help in their advantage.

A small smirk curled his handsome lips as the debonair-billionaire stared out over the city night lights from his towering skyscraper. He was almost tempted to order a glass of wine to sip as he posed, just for dramatic affect and his own amusement—but brushed the idea aside as a useless waste of wine from his extensive, finely-aged stores. He hadn't gotten this far from being careless with his money; Masao Tanaka was the fist person to admit his wallet was tighter than a ninjas lips.

Steel blue eyes pierced the heavens, watching the dark clouds build their castles in the star-strewn darkness, sculpted from smoky clay. A storm on the horizon. It was slightly ominous. A frown pulled slightly at the edge of his lips, irritated that, even with all his power, he couldn't control the weather. No matter how it displeased him in it's possible premonition. Ridiculous superstition it may be, but it was a minor annoyance that the sky didn't hail him as the world should.

Perfectly combed, thinly wisped layers of white-blonde cresting Masao's head almost glinted in the dark—only the grey at his temples belying his age, the rest hidden beneath dye of his natural color. He only kept the grey before his ears as it looked rather distinguished and powerful. That and, it worked a subconscious psychological treat on those around him—'older, therefore, wiser, smarter, knows what he's doing, respect your elders'. (_And your betters._)

Masao leaned back, hands braced against his polished oak desk, feeling rather satisfied and content—like the cat that got the cream.

"Tanaka-sama."

Masao cocked his head to the side in acknowledgement and question, knowing a black-clad missing-nin—his intelligence gathering nin—would be on one knee and bowed before the desk amongst the shadows.

"The mission failed Tanaka-sama. Tsumenohoshi-san and Hujo-san were killed brutally; a couple of blocks leveled, the civilian decoy was used as a shield by the demon and the money taken before it could be recovered. Nothing left but dust."

Masao's good mood had slowly evaporated in wake of his fiery anger during this rather blunt recap from his scouting nuke-nin—the only outward sign being the tense grip of his hands on the edge of his desk slowly tightening to a white-knuckled clutch.

"_Dismissed_." He hissed quietly, voice a roiling sea of vicious emotion, but none pin-pointable. The Nin took his release into prompt consideration.

Now, a little fact that might come in handy about Masao Tanaka was the fact that the man was a complete control freak. No one played or broke with his toys; no one messed up his neat, organized plans and presumptions. One of the reasons he forced his way up the power ladder, being for the fact that he thought he could do better in charge than those before him. _He_**_ had _**_to have complete control_. So, needless to say, an unholy, irrational fury sprung forth when anything deviated from his precise procedures.

This was one of those times.

Masao Tanaka. Does. Not. Lose.

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**_At the exact same time,_**

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**_approaching central Rain Country from the North _**

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"That fucking, backstabbing sunnovabitch…" Tsumibitoko muttered fiercely to herself, tearing through the undergrowth as she ran at inhuman speeds through the wild forest. She hadn't exactly expected anything less from her employer, he obviously saw her as a threat, but she was still pissed there was another person to look out for in her never-ending, on-the-run status.

She was just glad the asshole had paid her first. Probably expecting his subordinates to be able to collect the money from her warm corpse. Not on Tsumibitoko's watch.

The demon girl was letting out a subconscious, continuous growl, rumbling from her throat and chest in a threatening manner. The vicinity had already been evacuated of all other life due to her murderous, demonic intent—leaving it eerily quiet and devoid of the innate chatter of nature. This made tearing angrily through trees and bushes, while trying to be inconspicuous and quiet, far harder than normal.

Breathing heavily in fury, Tsumibitoko calmed herself forcefully, starting to run through the forest more carefully—slipping into a more composed mindset that instinctively began leaving no trail to follow. Better that way.

Still, she muttered under her breath in a rather viciously homicidal way.

"When I'm done with that fucker he sure as hell won't be able to charm his way to payday with a mangled face and balls in place of his eyes…I'll tear him up so bad he'll look-look…I don't know! But it'll be fugly as shit!" She flailed furiously for a second, her heated muttering rising to a snarl.

Ignoring the branches tearing at her wild brown hair and long, swishing ponytail—Tsumibitoko hitched her pack higher on one shoulder, melding with the nature around her seamlessly, finding peace in her surroundings. Sucking in a deep breath—full with fresh air, grass, dirt, fur and berries—the tense lines around her eyes relaxed further—glad to be home amongst the trees and endless sky. God, she hated how humanity tore away at natures outlines. There was still so much left, thank kami-sama, but she feared it might dwindle beneath the mortal's crazed building onslaught. Another thing she never understood about humans. Why they felt the need to encase themselves in brick and plaster when they could lie out on the grass through wind and sunshine, feel the dew on the green blades and in the morning air, the trees rustling about them as the sun climbed the sky, blooming like an orange rose across the blue.

Nothing felt more peaceful, more at-one, than in those moments.

But, then again, that may just have been her demonic connection. Tsumibitoko knew that she'd go fully batshit if she didn't have contact or sight of nature—it was just who she was, integrated into her being and every fiber, she belonged to the earth in ways humans would never understand. The way others of her kind were tied to fire, or lightening, or water, or wind. She was a complete land-lubber, whereas others lived in storms—relished in the thunder and freezing rain, the stark, cracking flashes, the thunderous roar that shook the fabric of reality, the maelstrom of lightening. That was where they belonged the way others belonged in the ocean, floating on currents and tangled in the seaweed, kicking up sand and breathing in the salty liquid, playing with schools of shimmering fish. Then others in fire, dancing within inferno's either of their own making or of humans—of bursting, raging jutsu's or an arsonists addiction—swirling through the heat, the crackle-and-pop, breathing with the smoke, sashaying with their own kind and swaying to the heavy beat of fires call. The way others pranced and flew playfully with the wind, gliding on timeless tides, caught between the Earth and the sky, dancing with the clouds and laughing as clear and free as a bird.

The same way Tsumibitoko danced with the trees, and they danced back. The way she felt Earths heart thudding beneath her feet, enveloping her with warmth to her very core, how it gifted her when she fought—their age old contract holding strong as a mountain. The way she could shift with the earth, burn with its magma, sing with its glades, laugh with its inhabitants—for they too loved Earth just as she, and it was easy to relate on that concept—she wouldn't be able to live without the dirt beneath her and the life around her. If Tsumibitoko had to choose between Earth and her next breath, she'd surely choose Earth, without second thought. Even despite the demonic, irrational terror of death—she couldn't think of existing in a world without the one thing she loved.

It was the same for each and every one of her kind. All they _could_ love was the element they were tied to.

And this wasn't the love humans had. No. It was based purely on existence, the kind of love you wouldn't be able to survive another second without—the grief and passion and affectionate adoration tripled to thrice the amount any human could handle. Demons didn't have a vast variety of emotions to speed through as easily as mortals, but the love for their element was an exception.

This love was incredibly diverse from the human kind; mortal love didn't even touch the sides. Humans felt love, then got married or split up—this love was far from that fickle. You were bound. Plain and simple. From birth, for eternity, till death. Demon elemental love wasn't _exactly_ the same as demon mating, per say—the demonic equivalent to marriage—but the _binding_ part was pretty solid, exempting the lack of love that came with a mate.

Mating involved no love—unlike silly human ideals—you chose a mate on compatibility. Involving appearance, power, strength, elemental connection, various aspects of personality that you may like—that could perhaps liven up a lifelong obligation. It took many centuries, thousands of millennia, to find an appropriate mate for any demon—you didn't just hitch up and stain each others skin that permanently without there being, at least, a deep rooted…_trust_ of sorts. More like a mutual benefit kind of thing, strong demon-spawn and all that. Then there was the ever elusive myth of Heart Mates…and Tsumibitoko just wasn't even going to let her thoughts go down _that_ route. Not now.

One of the reasons for demons being such a rare species was because of mating—it was one hell of a complicated thing to get saddled with and took ages to find a fitting candidate. Tsumibitoko always felt violently nauseous whenever she saw humans throw around marriage so freely—wedlock wasn't the same kind of insane bond demons had in mating, but it was a close enough comparison for her to have to hold her lunch down when she watched one mortal flick through marriages like pages of a book. It was just so _wrong_ by her ideals. One of the reasons she was also a violent commitaphobe. Mating freaked her the fuck out. That level of utter…tied-down-ed-ness. She had her reasons of course—_that fucking curse… _but just thinking about it made injustice boil in her stomach, and she was _really_ over this rapid change of emotions anyway. They were making her head spin. Too human.

Besides. She was hardly appropriate demon-mate material anyway. What with—…

_That's_**_ enough_**_ on_**_ that_**_ subject._ Tsumibitoko growled mentally—_too many things I don't want to think about, too many taboos to my own mind_—hands wishing to be bathed in blood, feeling far too bare and spotless for her liking, something absent in her chest. She missed the metallic scent in the air, the scarlet splatter across her feral grin—the blood drying and tangling in her hair, soaking her clothes as she laughed. That level of control. _Fuck_, she needed a demonic fix.

Tsumibitoko came to a screeching halt, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet like she couldn't bear to stand still—ears and nose twitching, lips pulled into a snarl, whole form practically vibrating with tension as she searched the air.

_There! From the West! _

She was off like a rocket, shooting through the undergrowth in a matter of seconds—desperate to drown out her thoughts and rapid slide-show human feelings in blood and revert to her nature. She wanted to feel numb again. To feel fulfilled and satiated of the blood and death and gore. To feel frickin' whole. Was that too much to ask?

_Goddammit, stop thinking about it!_ Tsumibitoko howled mentally, desperate to an animalistic, primal point now—racing as hard as her body could push itself. Desperate to outrun her thoughts and past and memories—before it caught up and engulfed her in its burning tidal wave. There was no rhyme or reason to her terror now, just the untamed, fraught fear of a wild animal cornered.

It all happened in under a second. She caught the scent, veered course, and plowed into one of the bandits she'd been tracking. There was barely any time for breath or change of mind, almost too fast for her own limbs to follow—and the demon slammed her quarry up against a thick oak, shaking the sturdy, ancient wood violently.

This was the one she wanted to find first—one isolated from his group, apparently picking away supplies from the surrounding woodland if that scattered basket of berries was any indication—she wanted information before tearing them all limb from limb. Information was a form of control, she needed that right now. To feel in charge of a situation of her own making, she _hated_ this whirlpool of helplessness.

Body plastered against the stunned mans, hands gripping his wrists and pinning them to the tree—face right up in his personal space, she was barely giving him any room to think or breathe, let alone retaliate.

_A little intimidation goes a long way._ Seeing him begin to recover from his shock, from the tight pain of her grip and slamming introduction to the tree bark, Tsumibitoko figured she should discourage him from shouting for help. Feeling her vocal chords hum as they geared up—demonically altered, animalistic—she pulled her lips into a haughty sneer.

**"Name, human." **It wasn't a question, it was an outright demand—a burning, growling, deep-from-the-throat, echoing snarl. She didn't really care much for his name, she just needed something to say to use her voice, to let him realize she was a demon and _dangerous_, scaring him into submission before getting to the information she needed.

It had the desired effect, to say the least. _A little intimidation goes a long, _**_long_**_ way._

"…B-B-Buji T-Taka, m-m-ma'am…" He stuttered out, eyes wide and pallor blanched bone-white as he took in her fangs, scorching-on-skin golden eyes and inhuman appearance. The claws digging into his wrists weren't helping matters. He was apparently still coming to the instinctual, bullet-sweating, knee-knocking realization she was _not human_. The poor sod was so freaked and scared for his life he wasn't even blushing from her tight proximity.

**"Bandit." **She obviously expected agreement, with only the slightest of inflection to indicate question. Her voice was deadpan, face flat and eyes burning. He nodded rapidly, almost dislodging his greasy bandanna, mouth clamped into a pale, petrified line.

**"Group." **Tsumibitoko 'asked' in the same fashion, to receive another feverent nod as to 'yes, there are more of me'.

**"Numbers."** This time he hesitated, but, despite them being his 'comrades', the life of a bandit has always been rather solitary—she knew that. Nomadic and switching from group to group, no loyalty. He was not about to defend the other outlaws in place of his own life. Tsumibitoko saw this and didn't bother to begrudge the little human of it. She wouldn't want to die either.

"A-A-A-Ab-b-out t-twenty o-o-or so m-m-ma'am…" He managed to choke out, barely shifting his lips as if frightened that stirring the air or too much movement would incite her wrath and his death.

**"Association." **Seeing her 'questions' were seriously confusing the young man, and rather boredly amused for it—of course he was too frightened to ask what the hell she was going on about. She elaborated slightly. **"Ally. Connection. Involvement with a Ninja Village. Give me something to work with here****_ bandit-scum_****."**

Catching onto her rapidly increasing impatience, the brigand scrambled to answer, "N-No! No affinity or r-relation at all ma'am! C-C-Completely N-Ninja f-free."

Tsumibitoko nodded amiably; glad that no repercussions would come of her slaughtering the lot of them. It would be a very small possibility, but some bandits had loose treaties with villages. A sort of 'Don't step on our turf or terrorize our people and we wont slaughter you' kind of thing. She wouldn't have to worry now, wouldn't have to wonder at the _slight_ likelihood of retaliation from a village. They wouldn't be mad about the bandit groups' deaths, duh—that would probably be kind of helpful—it's just that they might be thinking one menace was replaced by a new one; one they had didn't have stats on or a territory 'treaty' with. Retaliation from a village would be a nuisance; Tsumibitoko had managed to stay under the radar so far and would've liked to keep it that way. Being branded as a danger by a _village_ would seriously piss her off; since she'd be _known_ and that was enough to set her instincts on a knife edge and grinding at her nerves in a rather nervous, discordant manner.

**"Skills. Rare techniques. Stats. Bloodlines." **Again with the odd inflection and rare possibility—but she wanted him to know there was no room for avoiding or not answering her queries, so she demanded, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

"U-U-Um…n-n-not that I kn-know of…m-ma'am…j-just you're regular b-bandit camp!" He tried a feeble grin, Tsumibitoko smirking despite herself—even if it looked positively feral and fierce—at his hutzpah and weak attempt at trying to lighten the atmosphere. Even if it wouldn't alter the inevitability of his impending death.

Apparently the bandit was relaxing an inch—as it obviously seemed Tsumibitoko only wanted info for whatever reason, maybe they were encroaching on her territory or something—and it seemed he was finally starting to come to the realization that yes, this was a _demon_, a _rare demon_…the kind of demon he'd heard about in _The _Rumors. And as the fear stopped hazing his view into something less than 'this is the person that's going to kill me'—he appeared to finally note her immediacy. The poor mites face almost melted off with the heat.

Smirking viciously, Tsumibitoko leaned forwards—breath fluttering hotly over his mouth, eyes burning and in their usual bored, heavy-lidded set. He was so focused on her, his eyes heated in a different way to hers, that he never noticed her slipping a knife from his thigh-pack. Not a ninja kunai, as bandits rarely had ninja training—those were missing nin, obviously—just a simple, sturdy, wooden-hilted dagger.

"You know what I am, _bandit_?" Tsumibitoko murmured, voice back to normal, roughening it to a degree. A warm purr that skittered a shiver down his spine—she held back another smirk, darkly gleeful amusement darkening her eyes.

"_D-Demon, right?_" The bandit was thoroughly seduced, easy. Probably hadn't been with a woman in a while, considering how far into the woods they were.

"Yes, _little human_." She growled in his ear, fangs bared, lips brushing the lobe and she licked her lips slowly, gagging inwardly. "I am demon, but I am something else too. Care to guess?"

_Horny_, would be an apt presumption—let him believe so. He was obviously itching to grab her and throw her down. To find out if those itty-bitty, oh-so-troublesome Rumors were true.

**"Hungry for your death." **She let the split second spear of doubt, shock and fearful desperation piece his hazed mind—before plowing the dagger deep into his armpit, yanking hard and slamming it straight into his heart—ripping through sinew, bone and lung. The dagger was completely useless now, of course. She'd broken it to get through the bone as it was rather poor quality—but what better insult than to kill a man while aroused and with his own weapon?

Blood splattered the tree and grass as he gurgled, and she held a hand over his mouth as he choked on his blood and tried to shout for help, spasming—the noise might attract other humans. A direct hit to the heart this way didn't kill him instantly, but the dagger was surprisingly well-made (probably stolen), so it had done its job. Just a few seconds left as it valiantly tried to pump blood around his body…_aaaand done_. Tsumibitoko let him slump slowly to the forest floor, leaving a sticky trail of blood streaked above his form on the oak.

"Return to the Earth, pitiful human." She murmured religiously against her index and middle fingers pads, lips whispering against the skin and blood as she spoke, before pressing a kiss to the flesh and holding it imperiously in the bandit's direction. A salutation to the Earth. Not even moving, she shifted and changed the Earth to absorb his body and blood—a scientific decomposing taking apart every inch of his skin, muscle, weapons and clothing, breaking it down and returning it in its original components back to nature. Her usual ritual.

Tsumibitoko stretched, relishing in the harmony of that connection—returning life to the earth as it so gave it to her, like touching god, there was always a momentary blinding link of feeling purely, devotedly, utterly _whole_ for one second, then it faded and she was stuck back in reality again. Scowling fiercely, she turned and set off west—not that far to the bandit camp—ready to dole out some probably deserved punishment in the form of 'divine retribution'. Or her slaughtering to feel better.

Hey, she never said she was a saint. _She's a demon._

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**_Not long after, in the midst of a massacre_**

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Tsumibitoko swept into a smooth duck, gliding beneath a random bandits punch—slipping into his guard under his overextended limb, one hand cupping the back of his head roughly and her other fist swinging round in a punishing fist, cracking across his cheek twice ruthlessly, blood slick across her knuckles. Throwing the dead outlaw to the ground, she span into a crouch—leg sweeping and knocking another charging man to the ground in a hard, ungainly thud, hand whipping out into a fist in his direction, her tightly curled fingers to the ground, squeezing and bringing the Earth around him in an improvised 'Sand Coffin'. She'd seen some Suna kid take down a couple innocents in a rage this way once, she had been able to smell the bloodlust and jinchuriki on him—it had almost been enough for her to swallow nervously, he'd scared her more than the beast he imprisoned did—but his killing method really _was_ impeccable. Beautiful for returning all that lovely blood to the Earth. A scream and crunch echoed through the air, not as clean or muffled as the original, blood dripping with sandy _splat…spat…splat_'s to the dusty clearing ground. She'd leveled the clearing on arriving at the camp base—wanting a clean, unobstructed fighting environment to manipulate the earth to its full advantage.

Her fighting style was a kind of meld really. Always low to the ground, mostly in a crouch or hunched in sweeping moves. Brawling, dog-fighting, ruthless, stubborn, invisible, bloody, gory, wild, primal. All these words and more could describe the eye-brow raising sight of her fighting with bare hands. All flashing, snarling unruliness, rough roars and cusses and she ripped her way through her enemies, golden eyes afire and blazing, fists flying, claws tearing mercilessly, fangs shredding skin and smearing blood around her mouth, Earth crunching, engulfing, smashing—unrivalled strength and unparalleled fear.

"_YAH_!" She screamed, clawed right hand tearing upwards from right hip to left shoulder—cleaving the last bandit in half and leaving her wild-eyed and panting. They were easy kills, but the adrenaline pumped high enough for her to feel whole again—to feel untouchable. Coming down from that high was the worst. Being hit by fact yet again.

"Return…to the Earth…" She murmured. Having caught her breath, with hollow eyes, she kissed her index and middle finger in salute and reached it out before her limply—body stained with blood and hair loose, form held back in a proud, commanding slouch, arm straight before her. It would've made quite the painting of a bloodied battle field with those burning golden eyes and stiff upper lip—never bowing, never yielding to horror or guilt or self-hatred like many do after death. An image of fierce defiance and…freedom.

_But not of the curse. _

_And it's about to catch up to her, no matter how far she runs._

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**_AT THE SAME MOMENT_**

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**_Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Hokage Tower, Mission Room_**

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Hinata Hyuuga had a scouting mission.

Made easy by the use of her byakugan, she was to head to Rain Country, scour the last known co-ordinates her target was seen in, pinpoint a location, and tighten the net for a team of ANBU to swoop in and take the mark out. It was impeccably planned, the assassination of her target—fool proof and water-tight to a surprising degree. The client _really_ wanted their mark gone.

Konoha had every piece of info possible on the target. Last known employers, jobs, appearance mapped out to a T, characteristic traits, common facial expressions, usual body language and habit ticks, and as many of the targets physical/jutsu skills and capabilities as possible. Unfortunately, it was still all rather sparse—whoever she was, the mark was _good_ at covering her tracks. _Practice_, Hinata supposed—but it was still a daunting amount of information for a ninja to receive. Their employer was obviously very tenacious. He must've had contacts up to his ears for that information.

Apparently, Hinata was not to tangle with the subject under any situation—life-or-death battle mayhaps resulting—as the target was apparently a bloodlusting power-house. Not one to trifle with or bump into in a dark alley, that was for sure. It was a little intimidating, and the usual doubts slithered in under her radar—_what if I'm not good enough? What if the target senses me? What's the marks intelligence network like? How do I know this mission won't have complications? How do I know I won't end up fighting the target?_—but she resolutely pushed them under the carpet and focused on the question that gave her strength.

_What would Naruto-kun do? _

Well, even Hinata wasn't besotted enough to ignore the fact that Naruto would most likely end up entangled in the targets personal affairs, protecting them from Konoha's powerful client against all odds for whatever reason. But she knew enough of what he'd do to know, _I can do this. I'm a ninja of Konoha. I'll be fine._ Besides, just thinking about him gave her vigor.

She had applied for a solo mission because really, Hinata just wanted some out-of-the-village time, alone. She wasn't above using missions to do that—especially since she was desperate to escape her father/her sister/the clans judging white eyes and slowly tightening claws. She felt suffocated. Especially since, and she was horrified to say, Hiashi Hyuuga had been actually dropping hints of a possible arranged marriage. That brought up a whole slew of thoughts she _really_ didn't want to deal with right now, so she pushed them under the rug to join her doubts and nausea.

Hinata took the mission.

There was just one thing nagging at her—(it tugged at her mind far more than any other missions information would—_than any mission information __**should**_, she corrected—it just didn't…sit right, filled her with a premonition or some such…anticipation-fueled anxiety)—oddly, there was no name of the target.

_No one knew the targets name. Not even the client._

This was a bit peculiar, and had raised a few eyebrows in the mission room, but ninjas were known for being weird—it was easily shrugged off. In a world that threw quite a few strange right-hooks on a daily basis, you learned to roll with the punches.

There were code-names of course—nick-names the target gave to employers, and always with the same secretive, bitterly-amused smirk, it was said—for them to call the mark by during her service. But nothing stayed fixed or permanent enough, as the target flickered from boss to boss, to become a well known moniker in the underworld the mark breathed with.

…_Kegareta Tenshi…Bachiatari…Osen sa…Tsumi ni Aisa__…_

…_Dirty Angel…Cursed or Damned…Tainted…Loved by Sin…_

Were some of the many used names. They were all of rather black mindset and seemed somehow tinted with a gloomy, ironic amusement—Hinata could almost hear the voice of her target saying them in a darkly amused voice. A rough, warm, comforting, deep tenor, tilted by an odd lilting accent and buried in the dusty heat of the Earth_…Where did_**_ that_**_ come fro—_

_"'Nata-sama!"_

Hinata almost jumped out of her goose-bump-prickled skin as the exact voice she'd imagined suddenly whispered through her mind like a lost memory. She only tensed imperceptibly and glanced about, despite her ninja training—finding no one there who had such a voice. For kami-sama's sake, she would never have been able to imagine such a voice that clearly—and the way she described it was truly odd…even in her own mind. 'Dusty heat of the Earth'? Where on…well, _Earth_ had that come from?

But…despite herself, Hinata found something oddly addictive in the affectionate, warm tone, almost laughing in amusement—she wanted to hear it again, would do anything to hear it again (so at odds with what she was used to in the Hyuuga family, of frosty words and pointed pitch). She'd heard such caring inflections from her teammates, from Kurenai-sensei—such warmth and comrade-love—but this was…different. There was a _deep_ love there, a fond devotion—more affection in the 'sama' than any sour-faced branch family member. It made her ache a little, because even though being addressed so highly always seemed cold and awkward to Hinata, there was something personal and loving about this. Like it was a 'sama' and nickname all for her; like she was special.

Hinata shook her head fiercely, inky strands slipping against her pale cheek as she swallowed nervously. _I'm putting way to much thought into an_**_ imagined_**_ voice…am I finally going crazy?_

Shaking her head again, Hinata composed herself and set off to the Hyuuga compound—determined to avoid her father and pack a few supplies.

Just another mission. Nothing to worry about.

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_Demons have a saying in their native tongue (Tongue of ages, language of time, and lyrical words of none but sinner blood). _

**_"In vinculis etiam audax"_**

_Latin for_**_ "In chains yet still bold (free)"_**

_Tsumibitoko no Youkai is about to find out how truly hard the upkeep of such a right is. _

_The curse is about to catch up to her, no matter how far she runs._

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**AN:** Btw, if you're having trouble picturing Tsumibitoko, look up Toshiro Hitsugaya from Bleach on Google images. I was having seriously bad imagination problems, my brain-machine just decided to crap out of me and stopped supplying ideas, so, I was surfing the net for anime hairstyles and stuff I could use, discarding every one of them. Then I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Toushiro Hitsugaya. I just stared at him in awe for a few seconds, cursing my stupidity at not thinking of it before, just basking in the glow from my screen all reverent like—before crying out in my head 'THAT'S EXACTLY IT! THAT'S EXACTLY HOW I IMAGINED HER!'

Of course, there are a few minute changes, but the basic facial structure and eye-shape is all To-chans—oh, and the hair. Gotta love the hair. I feel like a rip off, but imma lazy fuck and I have no excuses. Besides, it suits her exactly how I wanted her image. What can I say? This fic's already run off without me, may as well do _something_ to make it easier for my poor, abused little brain.

**PS.** Reviews are like medicine to my battered cranium *not so subtle attempt at subliminal messaging*


	2. daemon cantrix

**AN:** I just realized that this is going to be a rather angsty fic. Seriously, I write a lot of angst-fueled stuff without even realizing it—then I look at peoples definitions of angst and I'm like 'well, shit. Talk about getting hit with the angst-baton.'…That's a lot of 'angst's.

But yeah. Lots of that.

It doesn't really matter anyway, because I'm totally inspired and determined for this fic—it's got me all riled up and imagination whirring. *Sighs in a deeply satisfied manner, sips steaming tea wisely on Japanese backdrop* Oh, yes. I am completely Zen and in the zone.

**Disclaimer:** Couldn't own Naruto if I tried. 'Sall Masashi Kishimoto's, though I do own Tsumibitoko no Youkai, Masao Tanaka and a few others that may or may not appear later on in the grand scheme. Who the frick knows, with my runaway brain. So keep your grubby mits off.

**Little something's I listened to while writing this: **Don't Ever Leave by Smile Empty Soul, Are you Happy Now? by Michelle Branch, Hands on Me by Vanessa Carlton, The Day We Fell Apart by Kelly Clarkson and Love, Save the Empty by Erin McCarley.

**Edited a whole lot - 30/05/2012**

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**These Binds that Tie Us **_**or**_** Shatter the Preconceptions  
**{Chapter Two: Daemon Cantrix}  
_arc I : hand on the gate_

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_**"****Daemon Cantrix"**_

_Latin for **"Demon Singer"**_

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_**PRESENT DAY**_

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_**Rain Country, Chuuou City, known for its abundance of red-light districts**_

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Tsumibitoko sucked in a deep breath—feeling the sin swirling in the air around her filling her lungs. It was an almost heady sensation, humming through her viens and pumping its way into her heart—soaking through her skin in all its debauched glory and drenching her soul. There was an addiction in sin, a depraved need that dried out her mouth and made her head spin—as demons were beings built on transgression itself. But there was also something fundamentally wrong about indulging in _this_ kind of sin. The human kind.

It was sin, and it ticked all the boxes, but it sat funny in her stomach—like someone repeatedly jamming the wrong puzzle piece (but from the same box, same make) in a gap, trying to get it to fit even though it never will—it fulfilled the needs, but the demon girl was left…uneasy and wanting.

Tsumibitoko had never felt the same since she first let her curiosity get the better of her—_dirtied, in pieces, missing a fundamental part to her being, impure, __**a gaping hole where all things demon should be in her chest**_—but she'd soldiered through. She'd almost forgotten what feeling whole felt like, by now. It was a bitter, heart-clenching consolation, but a consolation none-the-less.

The demon girl didn't shift from her relaxed pose against the cold, grimy, cobbled wall—the night sky deep above her and bars rowdy around. Smoke drifted on the breeze, the scent of alcohol and bodies a constant in this part of town. There was a sharp freshness to the night air, almost hidden beneath the humid scent of sin. The end of her cigarette glowed, cheeks hollowing for a long, drawn out moment, before twin streams left her nose in a sigh. Parting her lips, Tsumibitoko peeled the cigarette from her mouth and dabbed at her lips distractedly with her tongue, a surprising silver piercing (a simple barbell) glinting in the dull lamp light against the pink muscle, trying to wet them—and glanced around the crowded street.

There was just…something _off_. Even more so than her dose of human-sin-but-not-sin. She pursed her lips a little, left hand deep in her black-puffy parka's pocket, the thick zip undone and exhibiting a bright green t-shirt sporting the liner, 'For looking exactly like her, she tasted less like her sister than I would've thought'. Tsumibitoko tapped her insanely-comfy black boots, striped tights pulling over her skin in a smooth, comfortable way and topped by her dark green shorts.

Yep, something was definitely wrong. The demon girl searched through her emotions, rummaging around and trying to figure out which one she was feeling _now_. It was kind of like…nervousness? No, no, she was never nervous—an emotion she'd never felt. Not really anxiety either, though it had the same tints of wariness to the future…so…premonition? A cautious anticipation?

Whatever it was, it bubbled uncomfortably in her gut, and it was hot and stifling. She didn't like it. It was _tight_.

Tsumibitoko took another drag on her cigarette, wishing the smoke could coil around the damn feeling and take it away as she exhaled. It was probably the third or so emotion she'd had today—and something deep in her slowly developing headache told her it was just one of the many, _many_ to come in the future. _That_ little tidbit made her feel physically nauseous—_technically_ _not an emotion, so don't even go there brain_—because sentiments were just way too human for comfort.

Tsumibitoko had perfected the art of faking emotion long ago—you had to, to fit in with man-kind, otherwise you were fucked. A social pariah. And although she couldn't care less about human opinions—she needed ever-wary acceptance to stay hidden and to stay dosed up on sin. If you were emotionless to the point Tsumibitoko was, people _knew_, they could _tell_—and then you were 'cold', 'vicious', 'unfeeling', 'freak', 'monster', 'heartless'. She knew every emotion that should be put—with her personality—to every situation. She knew what people would expect from her and had performed so utterly perfect that it had become habitual. Demons were creatures of routine anyway. It was hardly difficult. Her own personality had become a _habit_, a _charade_ to upkeep. So much so, that she was starting to wonder where the hell the act ended and where _she_ started. It was one hell of an identity crisis for sure. Too much for her ancient mind to really give a fuck about. She was _not_ in the mood to angst about things she was on a different level too, for things she couldn't do anything about. It was repetitive and futile.

But anyway, her point was—although she had perfected the performance of human emotions, they were still rather alien to her in themselves. She was fucking prehistoric _yes_—by human standards—but by demons she was barely even past the cusp of mortal-freaking-puberty. That said, it meant she had a long way to go before feelings started making any kind of screwy sense.

_I mean, what the hell's the point?_ She thought sullenly, detached from her own musings. What was the _purpose_, the _use_ of emotions? They didn't serve any function! There's no rationale, there was nothing—…nothing _sane_ about them! They're… _uncontrollable_… _irrational_… _frustrating_… _confusing_… and completely batshit! Just a mind-boggling waste of time and effort. And fucking _damn_ her to human-hell if she was going to sit around and try and interpret her every passing whim and feeling like some goateed, cliché psychologist with steepled hands or a drama-queen thirteen year old.

Still, the bubbling, tight, stifling, boiling feeling in her abdomen persisted. Like a determined fly buzzing around her head.

_Freaking marvelous, _she exclaimed mentally, part sarcastic, part horrified, _now I'm __**annoyed**__ too! _

Of course, none of this showed on her face but a slightly wry twisting of the lips clamped around her cigarette.

_"Affectiones__…__non __vitam __meam __pestem__…__" Emotions__…__bane of my non-life__… _She murmured lowly in her native tongue—feeling it roll from her lips, barely moving to murmur around the lilting language. Husky, completely alien, beautiful, dangerous, r's rolling, voice modulating dryly, flowing along the words. Lyrical, like a song meant only for dark gods. One thing she may have retained from her demonhood was the stunning language they spoke, and oh god how she missed having someone to converse in it with.

It gave her warmth, set sparks off in her chest and forced a bright, if small, smile to her face—lighting up henged-browned, golden eyes to a straight-from-the-forge bullion that glowed from beneath her dirty sheet of genjutsu dyed black hair, far more tamed than her usual style, and shrouding an illusion-paled, plain face.

…There _was_ a plus to the human language though, she'd give them that. They had so. _Many_. _Swear-words_! It was heaven for someone of vulgar mouth like Tsumibitoko. She could cuss about the same thing in about six different words, swear herself blind like a devoted nindo-spammer and curse till someone saw fit to throw a bar of soap at her mouth. Not that they wouldn't get their hand ripped off for their idiocy, but never-the-less. Her point still stood. Swearing made easy, by the human language.

Brought out of her musings by a change in the sound fluctuations about her, Tsumibitoko's ears pricked, before she slumped back against the brickwork. The demon girl sighed a small, disgusted 'ugh', eyes rolling in exasperation as the sounds of a prostitute being fucked in the next alley joined the lovely cacophony in the night air. _Jeez. Couldn't they at least get a love-hotel room 'r somethin'? _She shook her head and took another drag, tuning out the disgusting sounds of skin on skin, grunts, cries and gasped string of compliments from a female mouth. _Honestly_.

Peering out at the world from beneath the long, ragged cut of her henge-hair, Tsumibitoko scanned over the various clusters of citizens and music/scent/sound/laughter/people-pumping bars and restaurants. There were two reasons for her disguise on this summer night. One, she really did not want _any_ attention, of any sort, right now. Her normal appearance of molten gold eyes and foreign, wild whatever-attracted-humans would gain that in spades. Especially in a red-light district like this one. She wanted goddamn privacy, so a little plainness was just the ticket—the demon girl blended into the ivy-covered stone like a shadow at midnight, just another in the crowd. Two, it was safer to lie low for a while—till this 'Masao Tanaka' backed the hell off a bit. Tsumibitoko was rather glad she'd kept one of those hired missing-nins alive long enough for the man to betray who his employer was. She'd given a little incentive, of course. Heh. But, she lied. And killed the fucker anyway. The _look_ on his _face_. Bwahaha! Priceless!

…_Well. Not exactly. _Tsumibitoko grinned feral-ish behind the curtain of her hair, snickering—hand before her mouth, cigarette between fore and middle finger, curled slightly—at her evil, cold, _non-feeling_, thank-god. _I would sell it, if it had a price. Shameless lil' old me. I'd sell my grandmother if I had one._

She looked positively wicked in that moment. A vicious, cold, malevolent smirk-cum-grin on her face behind dark hair in shadows, leant against the wall and left hand in parka pocket, right foot propped up in support against the cobbled barricade behind her—scraping slightly as she shifted against the damp stone—right hand poised for a drag. _It's good to be evil, _Tsumibitoko mused, breathing again and absorbing the sin. _It's a relief to be evil,_ a smaller voice murmured, pointing out—knowing the demon girl had been frightened by her 'human'-ness lately and exploiting that. Damn for not being able to lie to herself.

Tsumibitoko shook her head slightly, trying to dislodge the thoughts as the sin whorled around her, invisible to all as it brushed over her skin and thrilled through her veins. Humans really had a natural skill for producing the vilest of peccadillo. They had such a capacity of great, soul-crushing immorality it _very_ nearly eclipsed that of half demons. Shocking, but there it was. She'd never actually _seen_ anyone truly live up to the potential, in all her years, but it was there—slowly being approached by some of the greatest of villainy. She couldn't wait for shit to hit the fan. If she lived that long.

Tsumibitoko sighed deeply, ignoring the wild-animal panic tightening her chest at the thought of dying, and sucked in a deep breath—pushing it from her mind. _More emotions. This isn't healthy. I'm going to get a headache—oh, wait. Already got one. Feh._

Flicking the cigarette before her with her thumb in a practiced movement, as it perched between her index and middle fingers, to rid the excess ash; the demon girl watched the greyish, some slightly orange-glowing cinders fall to grimy cobbles. Tsumibitoko sighed, one eye squinting shut and moving her right, cigarette-holding hand to the back of her head—scratching at a throbbing spot at the base of her skull with her spare ring finger and pinkie—an explosive sigh bursting from her lips.

_Are people of my appeared-age even allowed cigs this young? _She wondered suddenly. _I really don't know…haven't bothered to check in this century._ _I probably look about… _Tsumibitoko hissed in a thoughtful breath through her teeth, a small pensive grimace and frown on her face, hand frozen before her mouth as she stared up at the sky in contemplation …_ooooh, probably about seventeen? Sixteen? No, seventeen. Maybe a bit older than that, seventeen going on eighteen. I should be fine._

Then she smirked again, taking a drag before moving her hand down to her waist and tapping the cigarette butt lightly with her thumb again, ash floating to the ground. _'Snot like anyone could stop me anyways. Seriously. It'd be amusing if they tried. I could use a bit of entertainment…_

As if answering her call, the chaos-gods did just what they said on the tin, invoked a little havoc.

Her enhanced ears twitched beneath the henge, zoning in immediately on the change in the frequency of sound about her—the little blip from her left heightening into kind-of-raised voices.

_"Aww, c'mon baby!"_

_"Yeah, we're just having fun. Don't be so uptight! Loosen up a little!"_

Tsumibitoko rolled her eyes again, hearing the cajoling, jokingly pressuring, 'we're being playful and flirty now so we can get you drunk and take you back to out apartment, where a ton of guys are waiting to gang-rape you' tone in their voices. Exaggerate, she did not. The demon girl almost, _almost_ wanted to want to go beat their asses for peer-pressuring some most-likely-drunken-and-not-in-right-mind chick that way—but rolled her shoulders in a shrug against the wall and took another drag on her stump of a cigarette, the hot glow of the end flickering when she choked violently as the previously-thought-drunk-and-defenseless-girl in question spoke up.

_"Y-You will st-stay **away** f-from me."_

She sounded a little panicked, (and surprisingly sober) but strangely enough, her anxiety didn't seem to have anything to do with the men—like she was worried she'd attract attention, almost a whispered hiss and rather commandingly…well, _fierce_ for her nervous stutter. It was the voice itself though, that punched a blazing hole straight through her chest as _pure_ air swept through her lungs like a brilliant, mountain-top wind, cleansing her in its stark freshness from the inside out for one vibrant, _whole_ second.

…She felt whole. _Fuck_, she felt _whole_. For just one second! From hearing a _human **talk**_?-!

A little voice whispered, eager, hissing, at the back of her mind. _Imagine what it'd be like listening to that human __**all**__ the time…don't you hunger for it?_

Hope lit like a shocking, all-encompassing, _oh-my-god-what-do-I-do-with-all-this-freakin'-emotion?-! _fire in her chest—like a beautiful, clear, star beneath her lungs. It was delicious, addictive, foreign, frighteningly potent and utterly wonderful. _So, these 'emotion' things ain't so bad after all…hmm…_

So caught up in her exulted, covetous thoughts like a child with a shiny new toy, she almost missed the scuffle and yelp—a shocked, slightly frightened, angry yelp from _that_ voice—and she felt anger. A burning, white-hot wave scorching through her, singeing her lungs, charring her heart and tightening a furious band around her stomach.

_And those __**bastards**__ are trying to hurt my meal-ticket to wholeness! No __**fucking**__ way!_

She was storming in the precise direction of that voice without a second thought, without contact from her brain to her limbs, cigarette discarded beneath the heel of her boot, like she was just answering a call that she could _never_ walk away from. A part of her, tucked deep-away inside, hollered in distaste and vehement reluctance to all this emotion—the other too focused on not letting those _fucktards_ dare hurt her…_her_—her _girl_!

…

_(Her girl?)_

…Look, whatever, she had no name for this chick, what else was she supposed to call 'the voice/female human' in her own mind?

Tsumibitoko never even realized her anger at the men changed from 'bye-bye meal ticket' to blind, enraged, 'no-one touches her WITH ILL INTENT WHILE _I'M_ AROUND! _I'LL KILL THEM_!'

A vast difference, in all reality.

She was suddenly far more emotionally invested, _entwined_ than she'd realize, only until two fateful words eventually slip into her mind would the demon girl make the connection, though they weren't even touched upon right then—in the angry, protective, heat of the moment.

Then flaming gold irises clashed with rich lilac and the world around Tsumibitoko jerked to a halt.

_Pure. Ninja. Must…protect. _Were the first few disconnected words that filtered into the demon girl's brain when neurons started re-firing from the hanging-silent moment of before. Then things started spinning wildly and way to fast for her spitfire thoughts to keep up with. Still, they raced ahead in less than a few seconds, leaving her blinding in their forest-fire wake.

Voice-girl had looked nervously angry a split second before her gaze caught Tsumibitoko's—one hand gripping the wrist of some currently-faceless guy who'd got his own fistful of the shoulder of her coat-probably to try and wrench him away. The demon girl's gaze immediately zoned in sharply on the attempted use of force with a burning, irrational fury at this piece-of-shit male, because _god_ voice-girl looked so delicate next to him even with the obvious marks of a ninja tracing her stance, body structure and elegant muscle definition.

Small, pale, graceful hands were all that stood between her and the two men—soft and petite from the ends of her too large lilac jacket, the sleeves slipping and flopping from her arms with each movement. Long inky hair spilled over her back and waist in a satin waterfall, occasionally parting and slipping over a shoulder or arm—cob-webbing inky strands of softness over thick fabric. Lavender eyes pooled with frustration, then shock (_recognition?_) on meeting gold—milky irises sparkling a deep elegant purple, like dusk and grapes in their light tone. Long dark lashes clung to one another with almost-tears of aggravation, framing her graceful eyes in arches of thick sooty black—adding to her cute face. Skin like creamy vellum or shimmering pearls and cheeks flushed a sweet pink; a pleasantly pointed chin and a sweeping flowing neck were partly hidden in a thick jacket.

_Click._

It was happening again, that filling, _puzzle-piece-fitting-__**right**__-for-once_ sensation—like she wasn't so lost, like-like she had _meaning_ and _purpose_ again. God, Tsumibitoko craved that. Only this time there was an undercurrent of devotion, of '_this is what I was looking for, what I was drawn too_' when she never even _knew_ she was 'looking' for this girl.

All Tsumibitoko knew—without doubt or question—was that she'd give her life for this stranger in an instant, if she ever asked, or if something threatened her. It was singing in her blood, burning in her veins and cracking straight through her chest in a way only the headiest of realizations can. It bound her tight in chains, yet set her blindingly free and she couldn't even find it in her to be utterly furious she was tied to those light, sweet eyes.

The demon girl had no idea what was going on, but it felt…right.

Something nagged at the back of her mind desperately, yelling about…curse? And _of course it felt right; it was lulling her into a false sense of security!_ but she really wasn't in her right mind—bright eyes dazed and lips parted. Logic seemed to have fled, and all she could feel was the liberating fidelity.

Then the split second that contained all this passed, time sped back up to normal, and all Tsumibitoko could see was the slight panic in that soft, struck-dumb, purple gaze, the frustrated tears dabbing delicate lashes and the man's hand clenched, white-knuckled on her jackets shoulder.

Blinding, unreasonable fury followed—bountiful imagination screaming through the thousands of scenarios that could have followed if she had never heard that world-stopping voice, if she had continued to lean against that wall in cold indifference, soaking up sin.

A small voice that was sure the rest of her had lost its remaining sanity promptly facepalmed and muttered about 'anger management for the greater good…a.k.a, keeping the world intact'.

Tsumibitoko barely felt it, but the earth began to rumble in their district—shaking, trembling continuously like it was jarring against a scratch on a record, softly lit lamps shivering from the overhangs of bars and stores, stools and seats jerking, people staggering for balance and yelping. She didn't even waver in her balance, in her trust of the Earth beneath her.

"I…_suggest_…you…_Let. Her. Go._" She was suppressing every ounce of killing intent she could, trying not to get _too_ irrational—even when all she wanted was to rip this fuckers face off, to tear his heart out a squish it in his face, to _killkillkillkill__**kiiiiill**_—wanting _organization_ of her thoughts and feelings. She was fighting for control over her voice, forcing her vocal chords to co-operate and not shift automatically to her demonic-tones in utter ferocity, struggling against her rumbling animal instinct.

Tsumibitoko ignored the panicked anarchy around her as people scrambled for cover and stability—apparently not connecting it to her, because, _c'mon, _she was just one person, who'd suspect her? The demon girl could just see them—_"It's not possible to do something of that scale even with chakra—probably just a freak earthquake, new fault-line or something."_ Tsumibitoko almost want to laugh at how humans reasoned everything even vaguely strange away into boxes of logic and structure. It was kind of sad how they'd never believe in the old magic's and sciences that demons always did—as humans once did too—that Youkai will never forget. The contracts and mating—humans wouldn't believe unless it was presented before them and pimp-slapped into their brains.

"H-Hey, crazy plain-bitch! St-stay away from us!" One stuttered, glancing wildly around—apparently having enough of a brain between his ears to know she was causing this, as the whole world trembled about them violently. Tsumibitoko glared at them, bloodlust glinting across molten gold, evaluating—_both chunin missing-nin from cloud, probably got bored with the village lifestyle and decided to use their meager power to more self-productive measures, tch_—and tried to force herself into a semblance of calm.

The earthquake rumbling the ground about her was barely an insect buzzing by her concentration, but all the screaming and crashing was starting to piss her sensitive ears off and she most definitely did not want to get hit with any repair bills by disgruntled owners. Money was so annoyingly necessary to humans.

_Plus_, if these two thugs got a little more cocky than, 'Stage One: impending death by natural disaster panic mode', they might just be stupid enough to give her a suitable enough reason for her to kill them brutally. You know, beyond the fact they incited her vicious ire.

Then again, who needed any proper grounds? No one would dare call her up on her explanation. And, she really, _really_ wanted to kill them.

As the ground simmered from full-blown, dice-in-a-cup shaking, to a barely stable, warning shiver that shook loose dirt across its surface (almost more ominous and warning of impending death than the violent trembles of before, like the gods had gotten over their rage and were now simply _plotting_ vengefully on ways to take down their enemy)—people started to realize that _no_, it was not the apocalypse, or the second coming, or Kami-sama with some seriously bad gas and _yes_, weird hallucinations to do with gods farting were most likely their drug-swamped viens talking.

Tsumibitoko wasn't going to give them the chance to move from their hiding places and become witnesses to cold-blooded murder. She'd kill these nuke-nin pussies before that.

Then logic decided to catch up and switch around her plans.

_Already drawn enough attention to myself—gotta make sure my ex-boss (that betraying asshole) doesn't catch wind of this. Wrap it up quick and quietly, come back and kill these two later without drama._

A rather sudden, incredibly bright—and for Tsumibitoko, very plastic, but they didn't know that—smile lit up her currently pale and plain features.

"Hey babe! Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long!" In a split second, she was next to voice-girl—staunchly ignoring the hand still gripping lilac jacket in case of a relapse—strong arms winding around the other girls waist from behind. Resting her chin on voice-girls soft shoulder Tsumibitoko was weirded out to find how familiar and warm her scent was—like a field of sun-warmed, summer-drenched flowers, bright and sweet and soapy and not at all faked or clouded with noxious perfume. It was like coming home, being whole again. Being fully demon and _healed_ of her sins. For but a second she was untainted by human wickedness. Every new thing she experienced from this girl was balm to the dark, soul-sucking clog between her lungs.

"Wh—" One of the nuke-nin managed, blinking and jerking to where she had suddenly appeared—apparently rather _familiar_ with the dark haired girl, if her unwavering grin and close contact said anything. Tsumibitoko was rather amused to find that she could actually feel the heat blossoming a burning, unchecked red on the pale cheek a hairsbreadth from brushing against her own.

"Sorry fellas—she's off the market. 'S'why I got so angry you see?" And she just kept smilesmile_smiling_ in that rather bright, now a little disturbing way—eyes squeezed shut and teeth glinting like a predator.

"_You_? Why would she and _you_ be—" Obviously he was taking in her pale plain-ness and dull, odd, off-brown eyes. Like burnt, bronze rust. Diluted from gold, but they didn't know that. And of course, such reasoning also involved both girls apparent sexuality.

"Look, she never said anything about-about—so, why should we believe you huh?" The other one blustered and stammered, pride having taken a severe blow—subsequently, not willing to back down from the henged demon girl's claim without at least asserting himself a little.

Tsumibitoko could understand all this, and was relatively okay with it. But, then he had the subconscious gall to tug on voice-girls jacket—like he was trying to separate them. Something disgustingly lecherous glinted in his gaze when voice-girl gasped softly at the sudden yank. Tsumibitoko didn't even give the dark haired girl a chance to retaliate or protest—seeing that she seemed to be coming out of her shock induced stupor (man, remind her not to touch the girl so much if she zoned out and freaked that way)—like the fierce, disgusted, defiant, 'screw polite public propriety' look on her face insinuated. It was kinda nice, seeing whatever banked fire voice-girl hid in her lilac gaze ignite; since she was obviously rather demure.

Tsumibitoko batted his grip away one-handed with a harsh, battering force—nearly tearing voice-girls jacket, definitely loosening some seams, and almost breaking his hand if she hadn't held back that last millisecond.

And her grinning smile never faltered.

"I wouldn't touch her if I were you." Tsumibitoko chimed cheerfully, the blatant sunniness contradicting her threatening words—the missing Nin retracting his hand and wincing as he tried to flex it. "You see…**she's mine."**

The rumbling, threatening timbre to her voice all but shook the air as it spilled from her throat and slid across her tongue like a slinking panther in the brush. It definitely had the desired affect. Even voice-girl froze, eyes widening, finally realizing she was locked in the arms of a dangerous predator, as Tsumibitoko finally relieved her straining animal instincts and let the voice flow.

**"And…_you see_…"** She continued intensely, like she was trying to impart some important wisdom onto them, voice dispassionate, musing. The demon girl was toying with them now—watching the two men's eyes lock wide, like caught rabbits under her burning stare and burning voice. **"I don't like people playing with my toys." **She looked positively evil now, face a darker shade, eyes seeping through the henge into flaming pools of reflective gold—glinting luminously like a hunters in the dark, above a devilish smirk. More a vicious pull of thin lips than any show of emotion.

It felt surprisingly good to say that. '_Mine_'. Like a stamp of ownership, warding off all other demons and humans. Tsumibitoko was unashamed to admit that her kind were fiercely possessive, overprotective and jealous. It came with the Youkai territory.

She glared at them calmly from under dark lashes, head tilted down and to the side in voice-girls thick folds of flowery scented hair, silky dark tendrils caressing her cheeks as she buried her face in it—leaving her eyes free enough for them to still glimpse her glare. Her right hand trailed unabashedly up voice-girls side from its wrapped across her torso position to rest on her left ribs. _Possessive? Who's possessive? _She thought in amusement.

Tsumibitoko cocked an eyebrow at the frozen missing-nin. **"**_**Understand**_**?"**

She smirked in satisfied victory—cat that ate the pesky mouse, in all form of the word—when they backed away a little before apologizing and practically making a scrambling break for it. She made sure to catalogue their scents—quickly assembling a silent memo to track them down later and dispose of their aggravating existences. She wanted their blood to stain her naked feeling hands, wanted their own to stain theirs—right where they'd had the gall to touch voice-girl.

In the next second they were body-flickered as far as the demon girl could get them from the chaos that would no-doubt erupt. About 3.6 miles east, out of town in the wet, tropical forests of Rain Country.

Feet thudded against the moist, dirt/grass and Tsumibitoko blinked a little—the chakra that had stung, warped and blanked the air about her when she shinshun-ed clearing her mind of the heady cobwebs that had accumulated in voice-girls presence.

And she started to wonder on her sanity.

Quickly letting the girl go around her waist and backing up a few steps—Tsumibitoko tried to ignore the sense of loss and loneliness, the heaviness replacing where she once felt liberated and light and whole again. She was feeling kind of nauseous.

_I barely questioned all of…__**that**__ when it was happening…but now I'm free of it, I can see how…screwy…it was._ Now she was back in her right mind, Tsumibitoko was mad and suspicious—but tendrils of those feelings still lingered. They were branded inside her now, and she knew they'd never leave—the hole in her chest wasn't as large anymore—and she felt the anger abating a little. Her cautious wariness still grew strong. Blinking slightly, Tsumibitoko managed to ascertain that a feeling beneath and tangled in that was…panic? Like some instinct (the ones that weren't demon and singing out for the girl before her) was telling her she _knew_ this and to _stop_ getting drugged up on voice-girls presence already, because it would blow up in her face in the long run. Something telling her to run as hard and far as she could, till her feet wore out beneath her, her muscles tore to pieces and her lungs collapsed. To bolt.

Then voice-girl turned around and Tsumibitoko's panic deflated at the look on her face. Her sweet features were unbearably softened, (she was feeling what the demon girl was too, _thank-god_) and undeniably confused.

The silence was almost awkward as each girl looked each other over in an assessing fashion, both sorting through their thoughts and wondering what the heck just happened. Tsumibitoko decided to lead.

"It would be polite, no? To introduce yourself to your savior." Arrogant, sarcastic, blunt, presumptuous—she emitted these things through her words and confident, arms-crossed stance. _Phew. Little bit of normality feels good._

Something flashed in the girl's eyes across from Tsumibitoko—there and gone far too fast for her to try and decipher it with her measly knowledge on emotions. Voice-girl straightened up, something defiant and proud and elegant wrapped in thick, bulky clothes. Tsumibitoko cocked an eyebrow slightly, head tilted. Voice-girl gave out the vibe of someone who'd fought for all her power and strength, for what paltry confidence she had, with everything she could muster. It was a fierce, stubborn, tenacious thing. The vibe of someone who always got up after a hit, the vibe of someone who fought like they had nothing to lose.

Voice-girl seemed to scrounge for something for a second, swallowing tightly before drawing herself up higher and raising her chin. "A-And w-wouldn't it be polite t-to drop th-that henge of y-yours before demanding introductions? It's hardly b-befitting to hide your f-face from someone wh-when exchanging n-names. Identity for identity, equal grounds. It w-would…" she swallowed once more, eyes steeling and narrowing, "be _polite_, no?"

Tsumibitoko's eyebrows rose together this time, head tilting further as she examined the ninja before her. _Hmm, well. She doesn't seem like most naïve kunoichi (more obsessed with trivial, commoner things like boys and make-up than their job), even though she must be at that age. She's…something that could be different. _The demonesses examining, invasive golden eyes burnt their way up the dark haired human-female. She was trying to figure out what it was that made voice-girl retaliate to her cocky request so bravely, when not only was she demure, cripplingly shy and unassertive, she'd already heard and seen a bit of Tsumibitoko's prowess. A small bit, but nothing to sneeze at.

The golden gaze came to rest upon soft, unyielding lavender—something nervous there, but determined. _Byakugan kekkei genkai._ Tsumibitoko's own eyes widened a little as that clicked with the henge comment of before. _A bloodline, like the Sharingan and Rinnegan, descended of demons and their human Blood Mates ('filthy mortal-sympathizers' those demons may have been labeled, but who was she to talk?) _Tsumibitoko smirked a little sadly. _What happens when you mix the blood and DNA of a Youkai with mortal? You get super-powered bloodlines. _The smirk grew at this thought—_and demons can take the gift away __**just**__ as easy (though none know why)_,_ if you have the right procedures and knowledge—_but it faded into a contemplative glint in her eyes. _So she's Hyuuga huh? Seems different from all those uptight, sticks-up-their-asses, holier-than-thou ice-blocks I've met before. Maybe they've changed over the generations…? …Nah. They're way too set in their cold-fish traditions to do anything radical like __**that**__. Hyuuga? Change? Ha! That'll be the day._

Smirking again, Tsumibitoko conceded. "Fair enough. Learning your name has a price, huh? My identity?"

Something else flashed then, in deep lavender eyes, something almost close to a guilty knowing—like she already had an idea, but wasn't certain, and wanted confirmation. Tsumibitoko brushed it off when whatever it was passed; and stubborn, embarrassed, sheepishness seeped into that oddly expressive face and gaze.

"Y-Yes! If that's wh-what it takes!"

Tsumibitoko smirked at the response, "Feisty little thing, aren't you?"

Voice-girl looked surprised for a second, before her face exploded in color—almost scaring Tsumibitoko shitless, thinking she'd burst a ton of blood vessel in her head or come down with something super-super fast. The demon girl wanted to double over laughing upon the realization that voice-girl was just blushing. Blushing such a shade of red it would put an apple to shame. Tsumibitoko could practically see the 'no one's ever called me _that_ before' stamped in light eyes—pinned circle-wide—and flaming cheeks. It was kinda cute.

The demon girl just rolled her shoulder in an effortlessly nonchalant shrug, "Whatever. Me dropping the henge in exchange for your name, right?" _How on earth did we get to this? Bargaining over such paltry things. _

"R-Right." Was her determined, almost amusingly eager and determined answer—how can someone seem to serious with such a bad stutter anyway? Shaking her head, Tsumibitoko drew herself up and did as their deal instructed.

Hinata stared as the plain girl before her dropped the henge.

Where there were once dulled, bronze-ish-gold-ish brown eyes, vivid, diamond-sharp bullion burned from their depths—a heat and ancient _intensity _there that was starkly foreign from anything she'd really seen on a human.

And that's obviously what the golden stranger was _not_.

Her face was too…too sharp, too smooth, too angled. The sleek jaw-line and pointed chin, the soft, defined cheekbones, it was all too-too…_foreign_. Every line of her face, every inch of her tan skin was just distinct and utterly different from the normal concept of human appearances—despite the basic set-up being the same. Like someone had just superimposed a film of inhuman over something seemingly mortal. This image was not helped by pointed ears, the agile hunter's muscles, the _fangs_ and the claw-like nails.

"O-oh." Hinata managed in a breathy kind of shock, eyes blinking rapidly upon the odd, intoxicating exotic-ness before her—her brain speeding to catch up. It almost reminded her of Naruto-kun—of jinchuriki in general—as they all had that foreign, dangerous, exotic, demonic aura barely tangible to her pure eyes. Only this was real, this wasn't heavily diluted by the humans jinichuriki really were, wasn't watered-down by soft mortal coils. This was sin and steel and demon all wrapped around a pulsing, burning, undeniably Youkai center.

She was almost temped to switch on her byakugan to get a better view of whatever incredible chakra networks there must be winding under all that golden-brown skin. But, Hinata doubted the demon before her would take kindly to such an invasion of privacy.

…

_Demon. Right. _

…_O-Oh dear. _

_I'm in the presence of a demon._

Tsumibitoko smirked cockily again, arms crossed and waiting for it to set in. It was always the same. First, the shock as they took in her appearance, then the primal, self-preservation that came with being before a hunter—standing before something more powerful. Even if a demon faced a human stronger than them—the human would be more scared. Like standing before a tiger, it was just the age-old instincts of being before a vicious animal. Anyone would feel the nervous wariness in their gut before a lion or a panther, (even ninja to an extent) and that was the same for demons. It was just built into humans like thinking and breathing and blinking, a habit built in from ancient generation to generation from primordial times—not something you can just switch off easily.

Then, after the primal instinct—if they gain control of it—it depends on the person themselves as to their third reaction. _Some try to get in my pants, some run for it, some try to fight, or freeze completely in terror—it all depends on the person's personality. I wonder who she'll be…_

Hinata blinked. Swallowed. Sucked in a deep trembling breath. Pressed her lips together. And stuck out her hand for a handshake as she bowed ever so slightly, politely.

"M-My n-names Hinata Hyuuga. N-Nice to meet you…uhm…demon-san? Th-Thank you for the help back there, I-I'm still barely ch-chunin so I don't kn-know if I'd've been able to h-hold them off…ano…demon-san?"

Tsumibitoko just kind of fazed out after the first two sentences into a shocked stupor. _Sh-She's simply holding up her end of the bargain…? Humans are so diverse… I mean, I __**finally**__ think I understand them, have them all down to a goddamn T, and then one of them goes and does something like __**this**__…_

…

…_Hinata's a pretty name. It means 'Sunny Place', right?_

Tsumibitoko barely restrained herself from grabbing the closest tree and slamming her forehead against it.

"Well, Miss. Hyuuga." She drawled instead, preening inwardly at her control. "Let me guess? Now you want my name too, hmm?"

Voice-gi—no, _Hinata Hyuuga_, nodded falteringly, eyes still steely yet nervous. Tsumibitoko smirked, this giving her the opportunity to play with her 'toy'. _Unique plaything that she is, simply holding up her end of the bargain? Will wonders never cease…_

Tsumibitoko glided in a split second inside the dark haired girl's guard, _let's see how she reacts __**now**__, _one hand wrapping easily around her clothed outstretched wrist and using it to pull Hinata closer and the pale delicate hand behind Tsumibitoko's body. The Hyuuga girls other hand—in a ninja reflex on being surprised—went immediately to a jyuuken strike on her abdomen, but Tsumibitoko caught that too by the sleeve, leaning into the poor girls personal space unabashedly.

The demoness hummed thoughtfully, watching Hinata's face all but explode—_is that much blood rushing to her head healthy?—_and tilted her head a little, breath tickling the paler girls (well, not right now. Now she was currently invented a whole new _race_ of red-skinned people) full pink lips.

"But…what would I get in return?"

Golden eyes bored into lilac. Tsumibitoko was using this as a test. If Hinata gave in to the seduction, she was unworthy. If she fought, (something the demon girl would have brushed off as an impossibility before seeing her demon-hood so easily accepted) then Hinata would be deserving. Of what, Tsumibitoko had no idea. It was just there. In her head. Logic had taken a vacation, there was just blind instinct.

After a couple seconds of apparently panicked blushing, Hinata seemed to blink, her eyes suddenly intensifying ferociously—and before the Hyuuga heiress even knew what she was doing, or saying—she yanked away Tsumibitoko's grip on her sleeves and glared.

"I never want to see eyes that close unless they're blue. _Don't_ think I'm the kind of girl who'll forget that I love someone just because of a nice face and smooth words." Tsumibitoko was fighting a smirk by then, filing away the information on Hinata being in love to examine her feelings on it later (there was a little something the demon girl caught of overprotective-ness and a want to examine this person to see if they was worthy of such an honor, she managed to determine). And, hey, her new toy didn't even stutter. _I can't wait to find out what makes her tick, find out what makes her how she is—damn, this'll be fun. I'll figure out the secrets, play with my toy till I'm bored, then probably just go off again—I might wanna stick around a bit for this one though._

"As for what you'll get in return for your name. A simple, introductory handshake should suffice." The dark haired girl stuck her hand back out, eyes still set in a determined, stubborn glare, with a little more wariness than before. Then, she finally seemed to finally realize how utterly bold she just was—and her face bust into flames of mortification, hand trembling a little. Even though she still didn't back down.

Tsumibitoko actually, finally, burst into genuine laughter, "I like you girl—you got spunk!" Her eyebrows crinkled up and arms wrapped around her stomach as she let out her amusement. Hinata stood, entranced and struck dumb by both the compliment and ringing laughter from an incredibly carefree smile. She'd never seen one like that before. Even the most cheerful, unaffected of ninja or civilians were tied down unbearably by loyalty and bonds to people and places in a world like this, even when they grinned. This seemed…free-er than that. Of course, you could see it in the golden-girls face that she was also restrained and restricted, by what exactly; the Hyuuga heiress had no idea—maybe even more so than most—so Hinata was kinda pleased that the demon girl could gift her with such a laugh in spite of it all. That was true strength. Like Naruto-kun.

Finally winding down, Tsumibitoko wiped a tear from her eye and grinned, "Whew! Haven't laughed like that in ages. Feels like I've gotten a few years younger! What a load off!" She then placed her hands on her lower spine and stretched contentedly—making Hinata sweatdrop a little. _Those are only things an old man says and does…_

"So, handshake for name—ne, 'Nata-chan?" Eyes curved up in a vulpine, devilish grin, Tsumibitoko barely caught, with amusement, the blush that stained pale features ('not befitting a Hyuuga', of course, as the asses she'd once met would say) at the completely personal nickname. Tsumibitoko examined the hand, outstretched and waiting, then sighed a little. _She's so damn genuine. Why not just give her my name, just this once? Not my true one, but the one I switched for? No nicknames, no lies, just Tsumibitoko. It's pretty much my true one now, even if it doesn't feel it. It'll never fit the way my demon title did…but, oh well, nothing much to do about it. Name in exchange for name, her authentic, pure personality just screams for reciprocation._

Tsumibitoko reached, expecting to sloppily grab the others hand and shake it vigorously. "Mmkay, s'pose I can dig. At your service sweetheart! The name's—" her hand grasped the paler, smaller, softer version.

_**Click.**_

The world practically broke around them.

Both joined only by their clasped hands, one stood in a shy posture, arm held out before her—eyes wide. The other stood stock still, grin frozen on her face, in a confident pose enough to make anyone jealous—tall, laidback, one arm crossed over her chest to rest on her equally outstretched limb.

Then the world was burning, burning, _burning_ and Tsumibitoko could barely breathe as her head melted and it was all originating from that touching grip of hands that hazed in and out of her swaying view.

_**Curse…cursecursecurse…catching up with you~! Demondemondemon it's not long now before you're through! Daemon Cantrix! DAEMON CANTRIX! **_The utterly sinister and foreign voice roared through her brain as something broke, shattered and was born anew from the glass shards inside her.

It hurt, it seared—it was beautiful and poignant and ached and shook its way through her whole being like an earthquake of fire and light—crystallizing into the nauseating realization of '_Daemon Cantrix'_.

_No fucking wonder I acted like such a spaz before._

When the metaphorical fire died down, when the universe stopped shaking and coming apart at the seams, when the world stopped burning reality away with a potent recognition of power and when the searing tendrils of agony-cum-ecstasy in her palm cooled—Tsumibitoko found herself staring, utterly pale and horror-struck at the girl before her. Hinata seemed to have apparently had the same experience, only she wasn't swimming in horror, '_nonononoNO!_' and utter hatred of the injustice in the aftermath.

The demon girl practically tore her hand away, which burned again, and made her hiss through her teeth, at being ripped from the others skin—stuck there a little by the intense heat—not helped by the fact that the Hyuuga heiress made a small sound of loss from the lack of contact. She was feeling it too. This was real. How could Tsumibitoko not have seen the signs?-! Was she too caught up till it was too late?-! She should have _RUN_ _god__**dammit**_!

"Y-You…" Tsumibitoko choked out; mouth numbly moving around the words and pursing like she was going to be sick—like she couldn't breathe. Her eyes blinked rapidly, the sweat on her lashes blinding her and the sear of tears not helping. "You—…_fuck_." She swore viciously, her sentence cut off in horror on seeing the mark blazing on her palm. Her hand was trembling violently—

_NonononononoNO! Make it go away, make it go away! I ran so **hard** from all of this. WHYWHYWHY? I TRIED SO HARD TO MAKE IT NOT COME TRUE! **FUCKING WHY?**_

—a circle covered her whole palm, runes and ancient demon language (that she couldn't even comprehend) inscribed within its sharp black circumference. It was beautiful, it was something so archaic, beyond even time itself, that it felt like the whole world stood still just looking at it. It swirled from the circle—too much beauty to be contained—and around her thumb, tracing her fingers like something of those 'Indian henna tattoo' things so popular in the far East across the ocean. Well, popular last time she checked. They were influenced by Daemon Cantrix seal designs anyway. _Infiltrating cultures from the beginning of time, that's us Youkai!_

Tsumibitoko started to realize she was getting a bit hysterical, and that was above a demon of her caliber. Of a demon in general.

So she sharpened that chaotic, awful, gut-knotting, tsunami of _emotion_ into cold, hard, controllable Youkai anger—and directed it all at the fucking source.

The demon girl glared viciously, homicidally, hatefully, _vengefully_, at Hinata Hyuuga.

**"You." **She hissed—like the entire world had gone to hell in a hand basket and it was all the dark haired girls fault. **"YOU **_**DID**_** THIS!" **Tsumibitoko didn't even leave room for question, it was a roared statement.

"I-I-di-d-wha?" Hinata choked out, still blinking away white spots in her vision from the utterly bizarre and incredible…_thing_ of before—her stutter emphasized by the fact that she was staring at a similar mark smack-bang on her own palm with saucer wide eyes.

Tsumibitoko was simmering in her fury, reveling in it—tearing herself by force of willpower away from that free-yet-bonded feeling. Then, a small voice had the goddamn guts to speak up. _You were okay with this before, when you didn't know who and what she was. When you didn't know what was going on. How can her being a Daemon Cantrix change things so suddenly? Besides, you can't be mad at her anyway, it hurts. _Tsumibitoko growled angrily. _OF COURSE I CAN BE MAD! That's exactly the thing! I didn't KNOW what was going on in the beginning—so I just went with it! Now that I do, it's given me compete reason and right to blow my top! And who the hell says I have to answer to some schitsophrenic voice in my head anyways, huh?-!_

Tsumibitoko wasn't just furious at Hinata, she was mad at herself too—utterly in a rage over her own stupidly, for being dazed by the whole situation. She'd _known_ something would happen eventually, she'd always promised herself she'd be able to fight it when the time came—when it came for her! She should have seen it coming! Shouldn't have become complacent and arrogant in her believed trump over that thrice damned curse!

"W-Wait, c-can you—oh, wh-what is this?-! Wh-What's going _on_?" Hinata held out her palm, helplessly confused and hurt eyes burning on Tsumibitoko's skin.

The demon girl felt something triumphant, soft and possessive pang in her chest at the sight of black ancient whorls on pale skin—_she's demons now, we own her and she own us, all ours, __**she's mine**_—but pushed it mercilessly and angrily down, trembling violently where she stood. Tsumibitoko could only glare at Hinata, fists shaking by her sides with the pent up fury and hatred and bitterness—but a small, logical part of her spoke up again. _She needs to know the truth. Needs to know what she is. We don't need to tell her exactly why __**we**__ of all demons found her, that's private—but she needs to know what she is and what she can now do. If we don't tell her all that comes with Daemon Cantrix territory, imagine what would happen if another, less honorable demon came along and used her for their own gain. It would have to affect you eventually. You of all beings understand how far the ripples of our decisions go. She needs to know about her kind and our kind so as to not being manipulated into a weapon by either human or Youkai._

Torn violently between simply brushing Hinata off then making a break for it, and just telling her all, then making a break for it (the last one would simply mean Tsumibitoko would be stuck in Hinata's company for longer, more time for this loyalty and bullshit to grow)—the demon girl roared at herself mentally to get a freaking grip on all this chaotic human emotion. She needed to be emotionless. She needed to be in control.

…She needed to tell the Hyuuga the minutiae entailed with being what she was.

Tsumibitoko sighed roughly, sneering in sarcastic self-deprication within her mind, _I'm just such a fucking Good Samaritan._

"_Sit_. _Your_. _Ass_. _Down_. I won't ask twice. Don't try to defy me on this." The demon girl forced her voice into vaguely human realms and pointed jerkily at Hinata, then the grass. After the human had done hesitantly what she was told, still staring between her hand and golden eyes, Tsumibitoko again tugged hard at the reins on her anger and leaned herself back against a tree. She took tranquility and a refreshed calmness on top of her fury from the natural balm of nature upon her as an Earth demon—before crossing her arms in a rather guarded, hostile way.

"By nature, you are Daemon Cantrix. That is what the mark symbolizes on formation upon contact with a demon. And by definition, a Daemon Cantrix is a human vessel of pure control over Youkai. Demons don't know how they came about, maybe the gods trying to give some semblance of control on Youkai, maybe evolution trying to give humans a fighting chance—I don't know. They tend to crop up every few hundred generations or so, whenever demons seem to be…becoming more powerful. Edging out of obscurity and camp-fire tales, if you catch my drift."

"We think that maybe all the added 'demon' in the air reacts with certain dormant genes that make a Daemon Cantrix in some kind of chemical reaction or whatever, as the baby is formed and grows in the womb—and that's what makes one. It's exceptionally rare to actually _have_ these genes though, they're an anomaly, like a-a _growth_ that just pops up where it's needed, they just _are_." She snorted a little, "But what are a few conscious genes in a weird world like ours, huh?"

Tsumibitoko sighed heavily, wafting a hand in Hinata's direction. "_You_ personally, probably came about thanks to those arrogant and insanely well-known Bijuu Lords, considering your age. This, in all probability, could mean you'll be remarkably powerful, due to the Bijuu influence. Probably a brand all of your own…" Tsumibitoko examined the girl suspiciously, curiously, out the corner of her eye.

Hinata looked rather struck-dumb and stunned. _Most likely having a hard time taking it all in and probably in denial_, the demon girl supposed, _shock would be an apt guess_. The Hyuuga heiress _did_ seem to have a few inferiority complexes; if the stuttering, and horrified nervousness after actually showing a backbone proved anything. This whole, 'infinite, ungodly power over all demonic beings' might just be a _bit_ of an axis tilt to her world view.

"I-…I'm a p-p-p-product of th-t-the BIJUU?-!" She seemed so stuck on this itty-bitty tit-bit that she forgot to prod her fingers together in that infernally cute, yet highly aggravating way.

Tsumibitoko cocked a brow, "Well, yes. Not surprising really, I should've seen this coming."—_Fuck damn, I really __**should**__'ve seen this coming! Of course a Daemon Cantrix would pop up due to the demon in the air thanks to the Bijuu (who can't control their chakra output and leakage for anything, since there's so much). I just supposed—since none had shown up after a few years—that I was home free. Tch. My hubris disgusts even myself sometimes. Prolonged contact with humans must be dumbing me down._ She thought in dawning disgust—"They were far too powerful for nature to simply let them run around creating havoc. A Daemon Cantrix would've developed to keep the balance—to keep the peace. To control them. It just so _happens_, that it's you." This didn't seem to be helping Hinata's slight mental breakdown. Tsumibitoko scowled and straightened up.

"Hey!" She growled, gaining the panicking heiresses attention. "I don't think you quite understand what an honor and responsibility this is! For crying out loud, you could probably stop the Kyuubi in its tracks with but a _word_ in Demon Tongue or Cantrix Voice! You are an image to my kind; you're a leader—something most Youkai have come to accept unflinchingly and with _love_ in their hearts!"—_Despite, on initial discovery (way back when) demons utter hatred at the almost enslavery. It seems Daemon Cantrix's kind just grew on you over the centuries of Youkai Generations…Like algae_—"Youkai look forward to the appearance of a Daemon Cantrix, because you give us feelings we find it hard to feel for other beings otherwise! You give us purpose and hope! You're powerful and important to my people! It's kind of insulting that you're not a little more—…" Tsumibitoko struggled to explain or find an appropriate word, "well, _thinking_ of everything I've said instead of whining about how your genes activated to control the _Bijuu_! They're sealed now, so fucking build a bridge and get over it!"

Tsumibitoko shifted a little in the oncoming silence, realizing she may have been a _little_ insensitive. Bah. She sighed fiercely, explosively, again. "Look. You're a Daemon Cantrix right down through every molecule and particle to your soul. It's in your blood, burning your viens and singing like a siren in your mind. As having the…_honor_…to bond with you first and make you awaken your link to my kind, I can feel it too. I'm essentially your fucking pet from now on, okay? So this isn't exactly fun for me either." _Hip-freaking-hip, we can all be miserable._

There was a short silence as Tsumibitoko massaged the bridge of her nose, leaning with a dull 'thud' back against the tree, left arm crossed to rest in the crook of her right as she rubbed against the growing headache between her eyes. _This is too much…_

"Is…" Hinata's voice was a little wary, like she was treading on thin ice. "Is that why you're so mad? Would any other demon be as upset to be the first one to…'_bond_' with me first because of the whole…'pet' th-thing?…Or…is that…u-uhm…just y-you?"

Tsumibitoko glanced slightly over her fingers at the nervous looking girl, frowning. "No. That's just me. Any other Youkai would be frothing at the mouth to be the initial bond; I'm just the unlucky fucker who found you first." She sighed again, apparently a soon-to-be habit.

Tropical birds twittered in the trees above in the following quiet; as the exotic fowls settled down to sleep in the damp canopy of Rain Countries rain forests. The small plops of water dripping from a giant green leaf '_pat…pat…pat_'-ed to Tsumibitoko's right, the air clear and wet in her lungs.

"…Wh…Why i-is that?" The Hyuuga heiress seemed to falter, voice whisper quiet—twisting her hands in her jacket and trying to hide the hurt frown on her face.

Tsumibitoko winced, voice gruff and harsh in retaliation to the private inquiry. "That's _none_ of your business." She snarled, words running together.

Hinata flinched, making Tsumibitoko feel like the biggest shit in the world. _Fucking bond and its fucking emoting._

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-I d-didn't m-m-mean to p-pry." If anything, the Hyuuga girls stutter suddenly got worse.

Tsumibitoko stared at Hinata over her frozen hand for a few seconds, before slumping down the tree with the rough sound of fabric against bark, groaning a little in exasperated exhaustion, sitting on the ground with her knees up casually in wide triangles, elbows resting on each respective one. "Of _course_ you didn't." She groused sarcastically, sighing heavily again, emptying her lungs (and suppressing a pained wince) as Hinata seemed to shrink in on herself further. _This sighing thing has got to stop, but it kinda helps._

The demon girl continued in her Daemon Cantrix review, not looking up from her dangling, limp fingers in case of feeling that awful emotion of tight guilt in her throat from upset, anxious, lavender eyes. _The only reason she's feeling that way anyhow because of the bond. We're attached. The bond, the bond, the bond. I shouldn't feel bad. _"'Daemon Cantrix' is Demon Tongue itself. It means, 'Demon Singer'. It basically represents the way your kind sings for our kind. It's like an addiction, a sirens song in our blood. We can't resist the way a druggie can't resist their next hit. Expect we don't get rehab. It's permanent." One hand rubbed her face tiredly, middle finger and thumb scrunching her eyes for a second before flopping back to dangle towards the Earth. Blinking black, dizzy spots from her eyes tiredly, she continued.

"I couldn't've resisted the first time I heard your voice any more than I could've…I don't know, played with lightening? That fits. It's just…an impossible lure. Your voice, your scent, your smile, your face, your taste—it's a physical pain to not be sitting next to you right now. Like a fucking puppy following around its master. And since I'm the first bond, I'm tied in ways I'm loathe too. It'll kill me to leave, almost literally." _And since I'm less-than-demon anyway, I need your hit in ways other Youkai won't. It fills the hole where 'Demon' should be. I didn't know that was possible and I fucking hate it. But I want it. I crave it. I need it. _

_Two stages of the curse complete. Two. And I ran for centuries. What was the point? I can't fight this…_

Tsumibitoko scowled, _oh no fucking way. I did not go through all this shit just to bow down to 'fate' in the end. I'm getting the fuck __**out**__ of this and away from this mess. I swore I'd never let the curse control me, my life, and it won't._

That damnable voice perked up again. _But isn't running a form of the curse controlling you? A form of it guiding your actions?_

Tsumibitoko brushed it off. _I don't care. This is what I've chosen, and this is my rebellion. I. Won't. Let. My. Ancestors. Fuck-up. Strip. Me. Of. All. I. Have. Left. My freedom is my own alone. I don't bow to anyone, let alone a goddamned human. It'll be a cold day in hell, __**an arctic blizzard**__, before I go with the curses flow. I decide my own fate._

(Tsumibitoko suddenly found it horribly ironic that she was fighting her fate against a Hyuuga, when those white-eyed all-seers—_seeing everything but what's important_—were so hung up on 'fate' and 'destiny' that it was almost a complex. _So goddamn ironic. Someone up there's really having fun at my expense, no?_)

She smirked a little, tired and old and too wry around the edges to look natural on her seemingly young face. _Fine. I'll give the Hyuuga the basics she needs not to become a manipulated tool before I **try** __to leave. My debt to demon kind upon my betrayal won't be repaid by just helping out the newest Daemon Cantrix…but I might get even a __**little**__ in someone's good books. _She sighed roughly again.

"Okay. Look." Tsumibitoko dropped out of her contemplation and stared evenly at Hinata, that pale face rife with too many human emotions for the demon girl to even want to bother to comprehend them. "I'm going to level with you here."

She hopped to her feet with a rustle against the grass, pushed upwards by one hand and tapping almost weightlessly against the ground with one foot. Tsumibitoko strode over and crouched down in front of the politely kneeling Hyuuga (_gotta break her of that habit. Too…hmm…'Hyuuga-prissy'…wait a second. -No! Stop it brain! Goddamn bond! I'm. Not. Staying!_) and holding up three fingers, a steady, heavy golden frown locked on Hinata's wide lilac.

"There are three poweroonies that come with your gig. Some will have already made themselves known—others, not so much. You'll need a demon to teach you how to harness those"—_and it __**won't**__ be __**me**__ dammit!_—"though they're buried away, and will, or might've already, made an impromptu appearance in desperate times. They're handy 'n awesome like that." Tsumibitoko rolled her shoulders in a shrug, a little uncomfortable with the Hyuuga heiresses' undivided attention on her. Apparently she was starting to take this shit seriously, despite the initial shock and denial still edging that expressive gaze. _Is it part of the Byakugan's power that makes her eyes so easy to read? Part of all that chakra there? That would explain why her clan train themselves to be so cold and guarded, to keep their secrets from their eyes…hmm…ponder on it later…it might be handy to find a one-up on those ice-cube bastards…_

_Maybe it's just her, just a unique Hinata thing…_

…_Dammit, now she's just more likeable. I'd rather jump into a lightening storm than actually **like** a human. _

Tsumibitoko shook off her thoughts, scowling.

"One." She announced, pulling up her first finger and letting the other two drop to her fist. "Cantrix Voice. It's akin to my demonic one, which is a subconscious reaction to any intense negative feeling, danger, or like flipping a switch deliberately…liiiike killing intent squeezed into my animalistic vocal chords. Yours is different, yet completely the same. It's another form of control over Demons."

Tsumibitoko stood, hands tucked in her parka pockets and staring up at the star-studded sky. She'd forgotten how late it was.

"You can do it accidentally, a subconscious reaction, when you're frustrated or scared or angry with a demon—or you can find out how to switch it on and off. Demons just know it naturally, can do it without thought from birth, but you'll have to learn because you're human, and you're just not naturally equipped with the vocal chords and intrinsic knowledge we are—it's like breathing for Youkai. Not even thought about, like a dog being able to bark." Tsumibitoko worried over her lower lip with teeth contemplatively, humming in her throat a little as she traced constellations in the sky with her gaze. "Now, thing is, you have to understand how dangerous this power is. Ordering a demon in Voice is stripping away their freedom, they literally _can't_ not do what you said. _Never_ use it unless it's imperative to survival, don't just get all hyped up on a power-trip. Or I'll have to kill you." _D__on't know if I'd be able to, with this bond restricting me, but I'll damn well try. _"Words are power, girlie; _don't_ forget that when in a demonic presence. It's the same for names and promises when it comes to us; you'll have to watch what you say constantly."

She pulled her middle finger out her small pocket, sitting it over the lip to spread beside her pointer against the puffy black fabric—tallying two powers.

"Two. An Elemental connection. Now, this one you should already have at least the basics down; it'll just happen. This one doesn't need certain not-human body parts to gain a grip on without being taught, like Voice. This is…a demonic twist, per say, on elemental affinity. Your affinity you should already know, being above genin, they'll have tested you by now. This one takes your elemental affinity, and just triples the power to unimaginable heights. You probably already realize that you have a deeper link to your affinity than most, a tight union that seems almost unnatural, something that allows you to move it without hand seals or gathered chakra. Care to let me in on what it is?"

This time there was recognition on Hinata's face, almost a little relieved. "Wa-Water. I've been able to j-just move it si-since birth. N-Never showed anyone though, I would've been l-labeled a—…d-demon. S-s-sorry." Her mind automatically flashed to one specific memory, cheeks tinting bright pink at the recollection.

(_dancing in the moonlight on a pond before a waterfall, all cares and worries taken away with the soft breaks of water, no bikochu mission to worry about, no rare life-saving bug to search for, no Naruto-kun to fumble and blush in front of, just her and the water dancing in the moonlight, flicking around her in arch's, glittering in the evening air like sprays of silver dust, following her limbs like it can't get enough of her skin. Peace. Happiness…Belonging. _**Splash!**_ N-Naruto-kun?-! Eep! Run for it! He can't see me being so unladylike/unHyuugalike! Otou-sama would kill me! I-I-I'm unclothed!_)

Tsumibitoko smirked wryly. "Well, there you have it. An explanation for the liquid weirdness. It's just your affinity—and, you're not so much 'demon', as just a human with…'demonic' traits." _Why am I trying to comfort her?-! Mouth, shut up! Stop moving without my consent! _Tsumibitoko cleared her throat, looking distinctly awkward.

"Uhm…three." She popped out another finger to sit with the other two, pointed down over the brim of her pocket. "Okay. This one—"

Suddenly, her face slackened with shock. _Am I…standing here, teaching a Daemon Cantrix how to control me and my kind…?_

Tsumibitoko blinked at Hinata's (again, emotionally incomprehensible) face.

_Yup. Seems so. _

…_I finally snapped, ne? Cracked as a teapot._

She shook her head. _It's none of my business, remember? I'm leaving after this. Just giving her the ropes so she doesn't accidentally command a demon to die or something. That's all. She won't abuse it. _

…_Would she? And why do I trust her so much? I don't even know her. Would nature allow a Daemon Cantrix to be someone evil and power-exploiting? I don't know. We just **don't know**. She **could** be, for all the knowledge I have on her personality. And even so, I can't. Stop. Trusting her!_

_This is weak._

Tsumibitoko sighed, pulling the non-counting hand out of her pocket and scrubbing her face—before plunking down on the ground with a flop before Hinata, legs loosely crossed and slackly fisted hands falling onto the grass before her as she leaned forwards into the girls face.

"Look. I'm going to tell it to you straight. I hate you. With a vengeance. Being in your presence hurts me because I'm torn in half by this fucking bond we now share. One half of me wants to gut you on the spot so you can't interfere with my life like this, and the other half is all devoted. It _aches_." She thumped a fist against her heart, squeezing it there. "So, you listen to me now. I don't care how torn up I'll be about it—if you _ever_ abuse your Daemon Cantrix power, I will track you to the ends of the earth and I will kill you. You may be my fucking 'master', but demons are my people—and I won't let you give them any crap, got it?"

Hinata sort of blinked—something indignant in the set of her jaw, something injured in the taken-aback pull of her lips, and something surprised in her eyes. "Is-…a-am I th-that…" She swallowed tightly, voice weakening. "Powerful?" _That you need to be so worried?_

Tsumibitoko stared at her blankly, her own tone flat. "You could tell me to die right now with Voice, and my heart would stop beating with pleasure. It's just the way Daemon Cantrix works."

"O-oh…" If anything, her voice got weaker and a bit dazedly shocked; a whisper. "I-…I just came h-here for a normal m-mission—" A soft alarm bell went off in the back of the demon girls head—like a sixth sense—but she put it aside for now. "—and s-suddenly, I w-walk away w-with this…? I-It's just…so s-surreal…I didn't even kn-know this k-kind of thing existed! I've never even m-met a demon, l-let alone thought of b-being a-an…" she grimaced ever so slightly, "o-overlord or s-something of th-them…"

"It's 'Daemon Cantrix'."

_It's __**bizarre**__ is what it is_, Hinata thought petulantly, to her surprise, biting her lower lip. "…Y-Yeah. I c-can't say that. Th-Those words…uhm…I-It just w-won't w-work in my m-mouth the w-way it does i-in yours."

The nonchalant words, '_I'll teach you_', were almost out Tsumibitoko's mouth before she could clamp teeth on her tongue and choke them back down her esophagus.

She exchanged them for, "Well, whatever. Despite how dreamlike this must be, I don't have time to coddle your feelings on the matter. You are what you are; don't dick around hiding from it."

Hinata seemed to contemplate this for a moment, eye twitching slightly, before swallowing and nodding faintly. "Wh-what's 'poweroonie' n-number three?" She offered a small smile, making Tsumibitoko's lips ache from holding back the sunny grin that wanted to spring forth at the use of her wording. _This bond is really fucking with me. Isn't it unfair? For her to have this much power over me? For the bond to be manipulating my emotions by messing around with the chemicals and hormones and stuff in my body? It just seems…so freedom-and-choice stripping._

Tsumibitoko rubbed the side of her neck, leaning it to the side and squinting one eyes shut. "Three. That's Demon Summoning. You can summon any demon you want, anytime, anyplace. Helpful in battle actually. You can summon a whole battalion of lower demons who'd be ecstatic to die for you all kamikaze like; they're more cannon fodder than anything else. You can summon more 'boss' demons, who're pretty sadistic and will _love_ you forever and ever if you summon them to just slaughter enemies. Seriously. They'll be popping hearts over their head for you and goo-goo eyeing. You can summon me with by a swipe of blood over the seal on your palm, easy peasy. It all depends on how much chakra you shove into the summoning, bigger the better." Tsumibitoko peeked at Hinata out the corner of her eye, "You can even summon demons from within their seals…like…Bijuu. I heard they'd been jinchuriki-fied. Serves them right." _Not Kyuubes though. Miss him a lot. _Tsumibitoko rubbed over her chest again, trying to weather the ache that came with thinking of her old friend. She really, really missed him.

"I…" Hinata seemed extremely pale. Tsumibitoko faintly wondered where the hell all the blood in her head went all of a sudden. "I c-c-c-c-can s-s-_summon_ B-B-B-B-B-Bijuu f-from their s-s-seals…?" Her voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper of horror and fear (though Tsumibitoko wasn't sure if it _was_ fear. She wasn't familiar with that emotion. She only normally saw it on whoever she was fighting/killing's face. Looked like it though. She just wasn't sure, since Hinata's face wasn't marred with the blood that usually came with the look. She shuddered faintly at the thought of Hinata's soft features drenched in the vermillion liquid. Tsumibitoko didn't like the image as much as she wanted to). Frankly, right now, Hinata looked so pale she was green around the gills.

Tsumibitoko cocked a brow. "Che. What kind of Singer would you be if you couldn't summon demons like Bijuu?" _Hey…maybe I can use her to summon Kyuubes from his seal…? Except, I don't know which village he's trapped in or __**who**__ he's trapped in. Haven't had any contact with the fuzzball in millennia really. He's probably as willing to ostracize me as the rest of demon kind. _The ache got worse. She rubbed harder. _Maybe they'll be willing to accept me again if I'm the first bonder with a Daemon Cantrix? _The demon girl eyed Hinata contemplatively. Before sighing a mushroom cloud. _Nope. They wouldn't. Even tradition would never bow for a Singer. Who cares if I show up with the first of her kind in eons? I'm still little ol' sinner me. They'd take her in and kick me out. Whoop-dee-freakin'-do. _

Tsumibitoko sighed, pushing up from her seated position. "Okay. Pushing past that _apparently_ disturbing factoid." Hinata nodded faintly, looking weak. "I'll give you the deets on summoning demons other than me. I'm easiest, because your connection to me is deepest. First come, first serve an' all that."

Hopping lightly again to her feet, in the way Hinata almost wanted to ask how to do, Tsumibitoko gestured for the Hyuuga heiress to join her. The dark haired girl stood, with just as much grace, but not the weightless wildness. She almost pouted.

"Okay. 'Nother little detail. All demons are connected to an element—the same way humans are, except on a deeper level, which is the same for you. This is an important thing to know in summoning. You want an earth-based demon? You slam your hand to the earth. You want a wind-based Youkai? Wave it in the air and make currents, displacing the atmosphere. You want a lightening demon? You need to reach for the heavens. Water? Well, that's super easy for you, because even if there's no liquid body around, you can pull the H2O from the air, thank-you hydrogen, and summon demons from that. Fire Youkai will be a little trickier, but I'm pretty sure you'll be able to make the oxygen in the air work. If not, make sure to have a katon-jutsu wielder at the ready always. It's better to be safe than sorry."

Tsumibitoko rolled her shoulders, sticking her hand out into the air, motioning for Hinata to copy her movements. "_Don't_ actually summon anyone," _t__hey just might try to kill me, _"this is just going through the movements. Okay, so, say for hypothetical situations sake, you're up against a Nin specialized in lightening attacks. You want a wind demon to counteract the shinobi's affinity. So, you move your hand—" Tsumibitoko swished her hand side to side a little, turning it and wafting the air. "—and you emit as much cha—hey, you _have_ summoned before, right?"

Hinata shook her head gently. It seemed she'd been strangely subdued by these odd revelations. Probably still trying to get her head round the logistics of suddenly having the title 'Daemon Cantrix' slapped on her. "N-No, but K-Kiba-kun t-told me all a-about the i-ins and outs of s-summoning h-his clans dogs. K-Kurenai-sensei s-said it's b-better to be aware, a-and know the d-details of our teammates t-techniques."

Tsumibitoko shrugged, and complimented nonchalantly, like it was a given, "Smart lady." She missed the smile gifted her way by Hinata at the comment.

"Well, you know the logistics, and that's good enough. Besides, demons'll like it better if you're a summon-virgin." She graciously ignored the shocked, stuttered splutter that came from Hinata, and the raised amount of heat emitting from her face. "My kind's pretty possessive, so we'll all be thrilled we're the first to pop your cherry."

Again with the spluttering. It was rather entertaining. "D-D-Do you h-have to ph-phrase it like that?" Hinata practically whimpered; face glowing like Rudolph's nose.

Tsumibitoko blinked. "Like what?" She was the master of innocence.

Hinata didn't buy it for a second.

"Anywho!" The demon girl _almost_ grinned as she sang, "Waving~!" and did as she sang with her own hand energetically, trying to distract the Hyuuga heiress from her abysmal naïve act—abysmal when she wasn't _trying_ anyway (amusement barely helped).

"So, anyway, since this 'Kiba'"—_hmm…mental memo: find out if he's the lover-boy –wait! No! I. Am. Leaving!…Damned brain making plans without me—_"taught you summoning basics, that at least means you'll already know the different amounts of chakra you'll need to emit to summon demons of varying strength and skill. For now, we'll stick with a lightening Youkai, of medium to low strength. Don't discharge any chakra, just pretend."

"Now comes the fun part—I've never had to teach a Daemon Cantrix how to do any of this crap, but there's a first time for everything and I've read all the scrolls, like any other demon—so I'm pretty sure you have to say, in Voice of course, '_voco_'. Which basically means, 'to summon' or 'to call' if you translate it from Demon Tongue to Human."

Tsumibitoko glanced at Hinata with expectantly raised brows, who nodded determinedly and furrowed her own brows.

"_F-Fffhoko._" She managed to grind past her lips, like trying to spit out a bad taste from her mouth, nothing like the tumbling lyrical elegance when Tsumibitoko shaped the word. They both winced on it cutting the air. A small silence held, as the demon girl desperately tried to gain control of her twitching mouth, holding back laughter admirably, as Hinata practically burnt the atmosphere about her cheeks in mortification.

"H-Hey, it's okay," Tsumibitoko wavered out, still trying to hold onto her hysterics at the mangling of her language (which actually sparked a little annoyance and horror at the beauty of Demon Tongue being so dirtied and warped on a humans lips). "Y-You'll get it, being a-an…_admirable_" oh god she nearly lost it then, "first-try a-a-a-and all…D-Different sounds a-and lip movements and…tongue…and…" Hinata shot her an embarrassed, wide-eyed, 'are you for serious? I can _see_ you laughing at me' look. A sort of restrained, whinnied, 'pfft' noise burst past Tsumibitoko's lips as she scrambled for control, whole body trembling.

She eventually cracked.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA—!"

The demon girl cackled gleefully, blithely, throwing her head back and trying to stay upright with the carefree grin on her face, as her laughter rolled warmly through the night air.

Hinata just half-glared at her, obviously trying not to (as it was rude), but looking utterly humiliated and indignant—and wanting to glare at her. Apparently the laughter wasn't helping her indecision, as the sight and sound was softening her up. Tsumibitoko choked herself to a semblance of calm (read: no hysteria) and sniggered her way through a sentence.

"Aww, c'mon, heh! You can tell me where to shove it if you want to! Don't just stand there bottling stuff up when you're obviously mad." She laughed out, shoving a hand through wild, earth-brown hair and unconsciously slipping on her patented cheery, roguish grin. "Don't tell me you've got a stick up your ass like the rest of those Hyuuga." She pretended to ponder something, "I'm pretty sure they're just making room for somethin' else…" Tsumibitoko flashed a frighteningly sly smirk, eyes glinting with an unholy glee.

Hinata choked, face reinventing the color scarlet, hands clamping over her mouth to hide the unladylike grin that wanted to break through—that her father would scold (a bit to soft a description when compared to his lectures on Hyuuga conduct) and glare coldly at her for—at the blatant bashing/disrespecting/_crude insulting_ of those stiff, pompous-old codgers and disdainful branch/main members. _No, no! That's rude and mean and-and…not Hyuuga! _She ended up laughing anyways. She'd never really heard such blatant innuendo and crassness—since even Kiba toned it down around her innocence. She found she kind of liked it, having someone around who would always speak their mind.

Ninja were, by a rule, secretive—she'd only met one other person who said everything that ran through their head with confidence (_Naruto-kun_…)—so speaking without thought was frowned upon in such a culture, for it was too blithely open, unashamed and un-manipulative for Shinobi to have use for. Everyone hid behind masks, had secrets—even the sweetest, kindest of kunoichi—and though she knew the gold-eyed demon and Naruto-kun both hid pains of their own, they still tore everything open and showed as much as they could, either to keep people away or attract them. Hinata was glad she had one other name to add to the list beneath her blond ray of sunshine's. They felt—felt—just so _real_ compared to the false, cold, barren everything she'd had to endure her whole life.

Tsumibitoko again had to rub at her chest, (this time due to an odd blossoming-warmth feeling) at the sight of Hinata's laughter, sighing a little forlornly to herself—feeling the damn fondness creeping up on her. _I hate this Hyuuga-spawn._

She scowled. _And I'm loosening up around her. Letting down my guard and dropping pretenses. I don't even realize I'm doing it…Jesus Christ; I might end up not __**minding**__ that I'm bound against my will at this rate._

A sharp, horrid slice of fear speared through her chest.

Tsumibitoko didn't like fear. And this feeling was on the point of terror. An irrational petrifaction on realizing she'd been doing what she'd subconsciously drilled into her psyche as something that could endanger the very fabric of her existence and freedom. And she'd had millennia to inflict this thinking on her mindset. Of course she was scared.

She still didn't like the feel of it.

"Well," Tsumibitoko broke in, voice gruff, hurried. _Quick, quick, end it—run away. __**Run**__ like the coward you are, it's all you have left. _"You've got it all down; just don't forget any of the stuff I told you. Uh, I guess you could summon another demon to bring you into Youkai society, to help you get the hang of things like duties and powers. Y-You'll be fine. Uh…have a nice life I guess." Tsumibitoko waved awkwardly with her hand, but hurriedly fisted it and shoved it down to her side when she realized it was the one with her mark blazoned black for the entire world to see, across fingers and the softer skin of her palm. Curling possessively, lovingly, beautifully around the base of each digit, around her thumb, in a swirling circle of runes and seals and archaic demon sigils…

_Don't stare at it! _She howled mentally, tearing her eyes away from the parts of the black tattoo that peeked over her almost-white-yellow tipped fingernails as they dug into her palm, strained by the force of her fist. She instinctively stopped clenching her hand tighter and let it fall loose when a part of her freaked out about gouging and damaging the symbol of her bond—not that it wouldn't just heal back, but it still panicked irrationally. She nearly roared in frustration at the warring of her conscious on realizing this unaware movement. _I'm going to go bat-shit insane, _Tsumibitoko thought grimly, _bat-shit__** insane**__ because I can't keep my being as one single entity. There's me, the defiant; and then there's __**the enemy**__, the devoted and emotionally altered. __**I'm not loyal to a human! I'm no demon pet!**_

"Y-…you're r-really…l-leaving?" Hinata snapped Tsumibitoko from her furious ponderings, a dark frown gifted from earthen brows at the heiresses hurt face, the dark haired girl's lower lip trapped by even, white teeth. _Probably never ripped into flesh and torn jugulars, sunk into raw meat or been doused in blood like mine_, Tsumibitoko mused absentmindedly, a bloodthirsty part of her noting that most of the above victims were human, shaking her head to rid herself of the lingering madness that echoed.

"Yeah. You'll live. People come, people go, you know the saying. No biggie." Tsumibitoko cleared her throat awkwardly, eyes averted—trying to get her damn feet to move. They seemed almost stuck to the ground. Maybe that was because her brain just couldn't seem to give them the damn signal to _GO_.

"B-But…" Hinata seemed to waver, part of her obviously wanting to concede and not be a burden or useless baggage, and the other part wanting to speak up on her opinions. An apparently masochistic part of Tsumibitoko cried out for Hinata to speak her mind, to stop her from leaving, to grow a backbone for both their sakes. She squished it angrily. Honestly, if Hinata really spoke her mind, it'd kill the demon girl. What was that part of her _thinking_ to babble such—

"B-But—!" Hinata exclaimed, "I don't w-w-w-want you t-to be one o-o-of the people th-th-that _go_…!" The heiress seemed honestly frightened. But whether that was from actually voicing herself and not just going along with what another person wanted; or from the thought of Tsumibitoko leaving, the demon girl would never know. She still winced involuntarily though.

Tsumibitoko tried not to sigh like she was dealing with a toddler, then, remembered she was a fucking _slave_, and decided to fuck-all, she'd do what she freaking wanted.

So, she sighed.

"Look." The demon girl rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to alleviate the headache there. _Break her. Hurt her and make her __**want**__ you to leave. You owe her __**nothing**__. _This didn't stop the small, persistent ache that settled like a band around the bottom of her lungs. "I don't do bonds. I don't do friendship, or happiness, or running through fields of freaking daisies. I'm a demon. I do darkness and sin and hatred—which I'm feeling a lot for you right now. I do fury and rebellion and blood and killing and _evil_." She turned to face Hinata, keeping a safe distance, body language purposefully distant, uncomfortable and angry. "I don't like humans. I don't like anything about them. I despise every breath they take in my presence, and I have killed more of your kind than…than, heat-beats will thump in your chest. Count them for the rest of your life; I've murdered more mortals than that. For my own selfish gain, my own survival, for war, for fun, for hatred, for sport, or simply to see which of us—my brethren and I—could get their mortal to beg and scream the loudest. Do you get it? I'm not fit to be among your kind, but I'm stuck here, and I'd prefer that _not_ to be with you. Leave me alone."

Despite it all, Tsumibitoko couldn't bring herself to outright insult Hinata. She had a repertoire itching to make itself well-known to the Hyuuga girl as an added precaution, but just _couldn't_ bring herself to tear the girl down any further. Couldn't destroy the faint dregs of confidence Hinata had—that had survived the brutal 'grooming' of the Hyuuga. Oh yes, Tsumibitoko knew how they raised their budding machines (sorry, _children_). It was almost as bad as Demons. This was saying something. And it was slightly amusing, due to the 'white-eye' bloodline being descended of Youkai. _Some practices even seem to survive races, no? Humans are just lucky the cruel raising was toned down for their own young; mortals aren't as resilient as demons. They'd end up with an emotionless Hyuuga army on their hands-…or a broken, cracked, insane clan of people. Hey, who says the Hyuuga aren't nuts somewhere under all that ice? No one can ever really diagnose lunacy upon themselves…a madman thinks himself perfectly sane._ Pulling herself from her contemplations, as the demon girl so often had to do with an ancient mind that liked to wander from her body and reality, Tsumibitoko yanked herself into the present.

_Ah. She looks like she might…cry?…Isn't that a mortal thing showing deep pain and/or heartbreaking sadness?…Well, fuck me sideways. I didn't say anything __**that**__ bad did I? _Frowning, since she had no idea what to do with an overemotional human female, she flickered over her little speech, rooted to the spot like the trees she so favored. _Oh. I may have insinuated a past of slaughtering and torturing humans for fun and merriment with my kind (not exactly warming her up to us, with her being a Daemon Cantrix and all), told her I hated her multiple times, sneered at friendship and love, told her I don't want to be in her presence and informed her on the fact that my emotions are highly limited (if you squint and happen to be perceptive). _

_So. Job well done, I suppose. She can't want to be around me now. Yay._

Tsumibitoko couldn't have analyzed the pain on thinking (and _knowing_) that, even if she had a dictionary on hand. She just didn't have the repertoire of emotions to describe it all. The only thing that stopped her from battling her pride in order to throw herself to her knees and beg for forgiveness was the endless chant '_it's the bond, it's the bond, it's bond, fucks sake where is your __**pride**__?_' That litany seemed her only link to sanity since the beginning of this whole…cock-up.

And it all started with a handshake. How utterly un-fuckin'-believable.

_Never touching a stranger EVER. AGAIN._

Tsumibitoko turned, swallowing hard and waving slightly over her shoulder. "Well, it was fun, but I've gotta go. Places to be, humans to kill." That last bit wasn't even added for effect, she needed to track-down those two nuke-nin before she could even _barely_ be at rest, especially after entangling herself in one of the things she'd been running from with all her power. "Be good to my kind, Daemon Cantrix." A slightly wry tone twisted the words as stepped forwards, away from what might possibly be her future and what would hopefully be her past, not daring to look back in the direction of stifled sobs. She felt like the biggest ass on the planet, and that would've been one _heck_ of a first, former to meeting this female. She never cared about what impact her words had on people before.

"W-Wait! _Please_—! This isn't—! I-I—! C-Can't you j-just explain wh-why you—!" Tsumibitoko scrunched her eyes tightly closed, ignoring the girl freaking _pleading_ with her, and body-flickered anywhere outside two miles. She hit the ground running.

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_**A FORTNIGHT LATER**_

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**_Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Hyuuga Clan Compound, Main Branch Wing, Heiress Hinata Hyuuga's sleeping quarters_**

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Hinata's fingers yet again brushed over the seal on her palm.

It took all her willpower not to just bite her finger and smear whatever blood bubbled up upon the black markings. To summon her gold-eyed demon. It was almost a physical pain, the temptation. Unfortunately, the longing ache in her chest was definitely corporeal.

She'd been so distracted since she came back from that mission. Fumbling more than usual, zoning out of conversations and just in private—all the time—her mind drifting to her nameless demon. A small, wry smile softened her lips. She'd never found out the demon girls name. Honest to kami, _no one knew_ the elusive Youkai's name. Not their employer, Tanaka something, not the Investigations Unit in ANBU, not even herself—even after all that. Even after the deal, the promise.

One thing Hinata _did_ know was that the demon girl she'd encountered, and apparently bonded with (something that was far easier to go along with after the initial freak out. She supposed it was just built into her to take this little revelation in stride, the same way being a 'Daemon Cantrix' was built into her), was that her nameless demon was the target she'd been trying to find on her mission, at the time of their…_introduction_, of sorts.

It had been blindingly obvious that, on coming home, Hinata could in no way say 'Nup, sorry, couldn't find her. Gone. Poof!', thanks to that demon-incited earthquake (the golden-eyed Youkai's earth related powers, one of the things noted on the mission debrief) and the two missing-nin that had popped up dead as a doornail the night Hinata was…abandoned. They'd been brutally murdered, almost tortured, mutilated—_victim one: face literally punched off, jaw torn away with the force of the hit and frontal skull crushed. unrecognizable by any stretch. victim two: heart torn from between his lungs and squished before him, dropped to the ground. and those were just the killing blows_. The Hyuuga girl knew with a sickening certainty (and an almost disturbingly happy pride, a pleasantly surprised satisfaction, a burst of delight, _her demon-girl had cared enough to kill them!_ Again, this disturbed her to the point of wanting to cry a little) that her nameless demon was the perpetrator. Consequently, Hinata could hardly say her Youkai hadn't been in town.

So, she'd lied.

Hinata Hyuuga, on reporting upon her mission, had lied her sweet, shy, demure, submissive little ass off in front of Tsunade-sama and the mission room.

She'd done it smoothly, perfectly, no stutter—which was quite unsettling, who knew she could lie so well?—like she was simply relaying the details of her assignment. She'd told of a confrontation, (as the demon had sensed her tailing her from miles away, they'd underestimated her skills, _obviously_) which incited the earthquake, and the Youkai had fled—something about her being on a job after two inconsequential missing cloud nin and not wasting her time with Hyuuga children.

Hinata had apologized for screwing up, for engaging the target—accidental or not, her fault or not, for making the mark run off and again disappear—leaving the ANBU squad no one to take out and thereby disrupting the plan, for crushing Konoha's opportunity at such a rich client, for dishonoring her clan (her father had been furious, but Hinata had weathered it with—though it surprised her—the small thought of _I know something you don't, you old gasbag, I __**will**__ protect her and her race_), she'd apologized to the angry Masao Tanaka's messenger, and been utterly stumped with, well…the fact that she'd _done_ all that elaborate tale-telling for a total _stranger_. Of course, a part of Hinata had growled at this, yowling that the nameless demon was _not_ a stranger, she was _hers_—but…well, a glaringly obvious fact was that the Youkai _was_ an unfamiliar unknown. She didn't even know the golden-eyed demonesses name.

Hinata had thought she'd be terrified of her father, her sister and her clans reactions to this royal cock-up (even if it was expected from the weakling failure)—and though they'd all expressed their opinions in their usual cold, awful, demoralizing, confidence-crushing ways—it had just…had to be done. _Lie back and think of England_, she'd quoted mentally at every verbal barb and with bitter amusement_._ Neji had been her only support against their criticism, but even he couldn't do much against the main branch. Hinata had been determined and defiantly resigned to the matter, though. She'd hardly even been able to question herself before her mouth had opened and her tongue had formed dishonest, false, occasional half-truths to its waiting audience—she could _hardly_ blame anyone but herself.

Of course, it had been a horrible, aching experience, lying like that to everyone—Hinata had felt like she was betraying everything she was born and bred to be, she'd felt sick and dirty with the unfaithfulness to her_ village_, her home, her people, where her loyalties should lie without question—but the deceiving had just come naturally. She had more loyalties than just to Konoha now (more loyalties to her _other_ 'people'); and she felt a home, a belonging, with her nameless demon. It was a protective, instinctual thing that had let her lie. A thing that demanded she not hand over _her_ Youkai to that foul Tanaka man. It was a thing of-of, _royalty_ protecting their dedicated vassal (odd metaphor that that was), a thing of a mother taking the blow for their child; she just…_couldn't_ _not_ lie. Even if it _was_ to the Hokage—who had been heart-breakingly disappointed in her, but supported her, as she did all her kunoichi. Only Tsunade-sama knew how tough the women under her command had it in the ninja world—how they had to _fight_ every inch of the way in a very male-orientated business. This had only made Hinata's chest ache worse, truly feeling like an unworthy failure beneath those strong, sympathetic caramel eyes. _Filthy liar_, something in her seemed to hiss, _how could you lie to this woman? To these people? You __**love**__ them, and yet you betray them for some __**demon**__?_

But, it was of no matter. If there was one thing she learned from Naruto-kun, she _had_ to protect her precious people. And it seemed her nameless demon had somehow just slipped in there without thinking—branded upon that small (but big for a shinobi) list, like the seal on Hinata's palm.

Another thing Hinata knew with certainty was that she was torn between three decisions. Three decisions that she couldn't act upon anyway, but torn and wanting all at once.

One, was to simply summon her nameless demon. She wanted to see those golden eyes—wanted to cool the hate and distrust and defensiveness in them to the warmth she'd managed to glimpse only once or twice. Hinata wanted to befriend, to be gifted with those blazing, heart-melting grins once again, the ones that seemed only for her, that stripped Hinata of all care and worry and left her floating. The second, was to screw suitability and protocol and bust past the village gates, to hunt down what she so wanted to summon—her demon, her bond—to scour the ends of the Ninja Nations for her Youkai, forgetting her duties as a ninja of Konoha. This was impossible and ridiculous and childish all at the same time—it just wouldn't do to abandon her responsibilities and loyalties for someone she barely knew, if at all—and she loved the Leaf too much to do such a thing. This time, Hinata tried to ignore the voice that insisted the nameless demon was no stranger—that Hinata was tied to her in ways she could _never_ be tied to a village.

The last choice filled her with a longing warmth; she wanted to find her people. She wanted to find her demons. She was a Daemon Cantrix, and she _wanted_ _to be with her Youkai_. Wanted to meet and bond and feel as at home as she could—even if she couldn't find her demon-girl. She wanted to find her Youkai people so bad that it had become a permanent ache lodged in her chest, something that parched her throat and made her gaze swim with yearning. Hinata doubted this was any of her own choices, these feelings—but they tugged at her none the less. It was her seal; singing through her blood and reminding her of what she now was—what she had always been. That she needed demon-kind just as much as they needed her. She was pulled to them, like the tide, just wanting to be home against the sand. Where it belonged.

Hinata could hardly believe it. A few weeks ago, she'd never have imagined _anything_ this…_immense, life-changing_. Wouldn't have dared to dream—because they were _demons_—and anyway, she was just little old disappointment Hinata. But _how_—when her Youkai had said she could bring the _Kyuubi to its_ _knees with a word_—could she be that person (that person who she knew she was), that weak shy girl whom she hated, but was without any doubt. She was Hinata Hyuuga, and she was…could maybe be…powerful…? It was kind of terrifying and invigorating, like her world and mindset had been shaken violently. And she'd, (despite all her misgivings, worries, doubts and shock) grown used to it—grown to…accept it. This new connection.

Hinata had even come to realize, as the time wore on, that she'd felt a significant change slowly shift inside of her. It was astounding, because, well, weren't the Bijuu evil, despicable, depraved monsters? It was just everyday life to hate each tailed beast, socially accepted as the norm and seeded into every mind as they grew up—just the way the world worked. But, Hinata found she couldn't accept this way of thinking anymore. She'd never truly hated them anyway, it was hard to hate something that had hardly ever done you wrong—that you'd only ever been told stories about—and besides, Hinata just couldn't…_hate_. No matter what species. Even if any thought of controlling, let alone meeting (something she doubted) the Bijuu had utterly paralyzed her, she'd found herself feeling the same fondness for them she felt towards the rest of their brethren. She felt pity for their incarceration, sadness, regret. She didn't want to abuse her power over them anymore than she would another demon, didn't want to make them bow before her with but a word. Didn't want to demand their slavery—even if some would insist they deserved it—it felt…wrong.

They were living, breathing beings—just like humans, weren't they? With cognitive, singular, defiant thought. They had ideas and they created and destroyed and they laughed and had families—mothers and fathers and siblings and _children_—just because they were a bit more evil, didn't mean they were beyond any kind of redemption. And who says they need salvation anyway? (And what right did humans have to be so haughty as to think they could dare to grant it?) Just because they liked destruction and death more than the next being, didn't mean they couldn't be capable of compassion or love—and how do those traits define something of 'good' anyway? Humans are capable of just as much evil as demons, yet the word 'humanity' (_the quality of being humane; kindness; benevolence_) still lingered. Why not 'bear-manity' or 'dolphin-manity'? Humanity was such an arrogant word.

Hinata only had to meet her nameless demon to really understand that. Her demon was Youkai, yes, but she was no monster. She had personality, was an individual capable of thought. It just seemed…inhumane to seal them up like that simply because mortals _could_. Because they were deemed unfit for 'normal society'—_human_ society. It would be just as easy to repel the demons, to negotiate and define territories and sign treaties like the intelligent creatures each could be, but…no, they were sealed away from air and life and the world. Maybe it was for humans sake they were imprisoned, but wasn't that just as selfish and arrogant as the word 'humanity'?

Hinata was utterly confused with the roundabout way her thoughts trailed—seal the Bijuu to save humans, or let them roam free, unhindered as should be their right, like any other living being, and watch them destroy for fun?—but she had decided on one thing.

She had forgiven them, and the Kyuubi, most of all, for all their past transgressions.

Those actions of the tailed beasts may have not affected Hinata that much, beyond history lessons and Naruto-kun's own…well, the nine-tails making him _who he was_ (and shouldn't she be _thankful_ to the fox demon for that? Without his presence Naruto may not have grown to who he was today, and _then_ where on Earth would Hinata be? No love to give her determination, no miniscule confidence, no strength, no nindo. Would she have gained that by herself? She doubted it). So, sure, the Bijuu's actions may not have had any direct influence on Hinata, and it seemed dreadfully conceited and presumptuous to say 'I forgive them for their past transgressions', like it made any sort of difference, even in her own head—all up on her high horse or something equally as arrogant. But, the simple fact was, that _someone_ had to. _One_ human, of them all, had to forgive the demons. You couldn't live in hate and fear, bitter anger and biting loss and grief for the rest of your days. She simply refused to be that weak and cowardly and judgemental. The rest of Leaf could simmer all they wanted, but Hinata wouldn't do that.

The Bijuu had served their punishment, their imprisonment—no matter how against their will, something that still rubbed her the wrong way (then again, didn't any criminal have to get justly punished for their crimes? One human couldn't be imprisoned for 'mass murder' and a demon run off scott free. She was still mulling over these confusing moral dilemmas)—but one human had to step forward and do the dirty work for the rest of mankind. To be the first. And she chose to be it.

The heiress didn't realize, but it said a lot for her character.

"I wonder if she aches like I do…" Hinata pondered at a whisper, laid back upon her bed—hand raised straight up and watching the afternoon light dust her pale skin curled with burnt black. She'd taken to wearing a tough, leather, fingerless glove on her right hand—to cover _It_ from view. She was just being cautious—who knew what ninjas could sense or had read in scrolls or were curious about—and besides, it felt…private. She just…felt better, more protected, for the glove. Hinata didn't want to have been seen to come home from such a failure of a mission with a _tattoo_, it seemed…well, it just seemed kind of…she didn't know…disrespectful, flippant? And anyway, someone might've asked about it—why she got it when she should've been mulling over what a cock-up she made of her assignment. It was just safer to keep it hidden. A part of her wanted to wave it to the world like a flag, to state her bondage to demons—but that just wasn't smart, and from a young age cautiousness and paranoia had been drilled into her, even if she rarely applied them.

But here, in her room, she let her guard slip a little—let herself smile as she stared at the incredible seal. It would boggle the minds of Yondaime and Jiraiya-sama; they'd probably drool a bit too. She allowed her inner child a small preen. It wasn't kind or respectful to tease the dead so, Hinata knew, but—her smile grew slightly, fonder, filled with warmth and sadness—she knew from what she'd heard, they'd take it in good taste, _and_ have to concede her point. It truly was a work of art in the science of sealing. But who expected anything less from Youkai? They were a fantastically obscure realm all of their own—who knew what their incredible histories and pasts told? Who knew what folktales and lullabies they fed their young? Who knew anything about them, really? Hinata sighed softly, she wanted to, very much so. She just had no idea how to go about it.

Her smile grew again, showing a hint of teeth. Hinata felt like a mother of sorts, and they were her children. That felt right, if a little embarrassingly egotistical.

Loosing herself to her thoughts, Hinata barely noticed as time slipped by. The only changes she noted being the bleed of sunset in the sunlight that brushed against white, filmy, satin-like curtains framing her bedroom window perched on light lavender walls (painted in secret from her father by Kiba-kun and Shino-kun for her birthday) over her heavy-set desk and looking out onto a spindly sakura tree, branches weighed down by the many blooms of pink flora, in the Hyuuga 'back garden'—if that field of trees and grass could be called as such. Her other vague observance of time passing was the sounds of life and light shifting in the Hyuuga household—as candles, lamps and switches were lit, ninja arriving home from missions, dinners made and consumed, (children fidgeting but attempting to be quiet, preteens awkwardly trying to live up to standards, teens cold and emulating those around them, adults frozen popsicles of people and the older generations either more bitter, icier versions of the adults or looking around and realizing that life's too short and _what have we done to our own clan?_ but not doing a damn thing to change it) She honest to god knew her 'family' too well. Being quiet, ignored and looked down upon made you observant, she knew this intimately.

Eyes drifting closed, as the evening wore on—sunset scorching and glinting off the pink blossoms wafting gently outside her window, the scent of sweet flowers carried on the breeze as well as an invisible chime, the soft creaks of wood and patting of bare feet…Hinata yawned slightly, lulled by the familiar sounds and smells, blinking her eyes open and biting back a shriek of shock. She shot up on her bed, scrambling back hurriedly and pressing her spine against the headboard, wide eyes trained on the square of burning orange light of her window as it framed…well, her nameless demon.

She was crouched there, Hinata having just glimpsed the soft pat as she landed with barely a whisper of displaced air, clothes ruffling on the evening breeze. One hand was placed absentmindedly on the right vertical wooden ridge of the window, the other gripping the bottom ledge lightly and her whole couched form perched precariously on the sill.

She was clad in a shirt that was stained with blood—Hinata doubted it was her own—and tied in a knot just beneath her bosom, baring most of her flat, tanned torso to the world. It was white and short-sleeved, the sleeves themselves and the thick, round, cotton collar that clung to the base of her throat a dark blue—the slogan 'This girl just swallowed a peeled banana whole. I'm not worthy.' was stamped in black over her chest. Hinata had a feeling it was stolen off of a…well, a victim. It seemed more fit for a man than her. Hinata also had a feeling that no matter what she said, her nameless demon would never stop wearing shirts that made her cheeks burn in horror and embarrassment. A jacket, as short as her tied-off t-shirt, brushed against her bared ribs—drifting on the breeze slightly, sleeves reaching just past her elbows and collar flapping. It was an olive, army-green color and looked to be a very soft nylon. Hinata wondered if this one was as stolen as the blood-stained t-shirt. Sun-kissed legs were covered by those same shorts and tights—only they looked a bit more ragged and wrung-out than the last time Hinata saw them, the shorts fraying slightly at the hems, more worn, and the tights riddled with ladders and holes, dirtier. Her feet were clad in those same velcro-strapped, comfy-looking, padded, clunky, huge boots. Hinata had no idea how she could be so silent and have those odd bursts of rough, graceful movement in such bulky, gigantic snow-boots. They looked like parkas for her feet.

Golden eyes sat colder, harder, more defensive than even before, angrier and bitter, than she remembered, guarded—in that familiar, memory-worn face, just as alien and captivating as Hinata recalled. Earth brown hair still scrambled in disarray, like it had never seen a brush before, mussed, dirty strands of chocolate drawn into an oddly smooth, tamed string of a ponytail from the nape of her neck.

A part of Hinata wanted to grin in delight, as the surge of euphoria and relief—like nothing was wrong or missing anymore, belonging—at the sight. Another part wanted to ask nervously about her means of acquiring clothes. Another part was sad, hurt at those eyes that seemed to hate her more than ever. Hinata guessed that before, when confusion was rife just after the bond, her nameless demon didn't know how to fight or sort out the feelings invoked by their connection—now, it seemed she did know how. And not only did she apparently not like it and blamed Hinata, she was surer than ever of her vehement dislike—with her now being able to differentiate between what was her own emotion and the bond screwing with her.

_It still didn't stop her coming back._ Hinata thought with something like euphoric relief, or pure glee, since there was no more elegant word for it, as she stared from shocked lilac into narrowed, unreadable gold.

"I…came back." Tanned, thin lips parted to state the obvious—still as gruff and rough as Hinata's recollection supplied; warm. Her tone sat defensive and reluctant in Hinata's ears, frustrated to a simmering growl.

Hinata smiled, feeling it soft and happy on her face, "S-So you did. H-How've y-you been?"

Golden eyes widened slightly, staring at her like she was trying to figure out Hinata's angle, why she was what she was, before snapping back to normal—averting to the side, outside the window and looking distinctly awkward as she swallowed. "…Torn…I suppose."

Hinata relaxed minutely, already relieved and delighted to feel the soothing effect of her demons presence—she felt…better in herself. And the small, warm smile wouldn't leave her face.

"Me t-too." Golden eyes slipped back to her face from under light lashes, sun-dipped at the ends from a life outside, face not moving from its turned position. Hinata's smile turned slightly amused, shy. "A-As to whether I sh-should search f-for you or n-not." Nerves twisted in her stomach.

Golden eyes stared flatly at her, not taking their defenses down an inch to show emotion on her face, just staring like she was considering something, trying to peel away Hinata's secrets.

"S-So, uhm…ano…h-how exactly did you g-get in Konoha's defenses?" It was a valid question, Hinata thought. The Leaf was surrounded by a giant spherical defensive barrier—underground, in the sky—anyone and everything that breached the completely undetectable sensory film made of chakra was noted by the up-keepers of the force-field. Not to mention wall-duty, chunin and jounin stationed upon the giant fortifications that barred the village, and the ANBU that patrolled the forests beyond.

The demon girl seemed to relax ever-so-slightly, voice still quiet, subdued. "Earth. I'm a part of Earth. I just…mold with it, blend with it, become it; it makes me impossible to detect when I travel in it. I popped up in some big training ground somewhere." It seemed she relaxed a bit when she talked about her elemental connection—something familiar and soothing, Hinata supposed.

A small, surprisingly comfortable, but strained silence ensued. _What an oxymoron._ Hinata tried to summon the courage to ask her next question, shrinking beneath the comforting, but slightly daunting, emotionless golden gaze that avoided her form.

"Wh—…" She lost her nerve when those molten irises flicked at inhuman speeds back to her, head still not turning, piercing her. She cleared her throat slightly, swallowing the lump there. "Why…d-did y-you c-come…back…?" _Not that it's not great or anything…but…you seemed pretty determined last time I saw you…saw you turn away from me… _The words hung unsaid-yet-said in the air, making the silence fall just a bit thicker and tense than before. Hinata almost regretted speaking up, mistaking the hush for anger, till she got a response.

"Couldn't stay away…" was the reply so quiet it was almost a whisper. It sounded almost wistful—regretful, but achingly resigned and bitter—that gaze taking on a far-away cast, the first thing close to emotion Hinata'd seen since her demon returned. Then it blanked again.

Hinata bit her lip. _Does it really hurt so bad to be around me? You hate me that much? _sang in her throat, strong on her tongue, almost a physical discomfort not to let them burst free from behind her teeth.

Her demon seemed to struggled for words quietly, "I…I…" the youkai's jaw tightened, "_need you_…more than others of my kind," She explained slowly, like the words were paining her to expel—like it was an uphill battle, almost talking to herself. "Because…I'm…well…not as…_demon_ as I once was, and you…" A tanned hand squeezed in a fist over her heart unconsciously, not missed by Hinata—noting how (from what she'd seen), it seemed to be her subconscious reaction to any intense feeling, foreign or not. "You…fill that hole…" The demon girls head finally turned to her, burning-blank gaze steady upon hers. "I felt…even more empty than before…without you…around…and," she sucked in a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering, and swallowed, licked her lips, like something was nauseating her, but didn't turn away or flicker in her gaze, "though I hate it…I'm not about to let the closest thing to full and belonging I've felt in a long…long time…go." The words stopped on an almost satisfied, determined note, still a bit too disgusted to reach it fully, but there. Like she was trying to convince herself more than Hinata.

The gold-eyed Youkai's eyes burned with enough hate to scorch the Hyuuga heiresses' insides. She_ hated _Hinata. The kind of hatred and grudge that could simmer and smolder for centuries in golden eyes and earthen mind. It was like being sucker punched in the throat, the stomach, and the heart all at the same time. Hinata couldn't breathe, could hardly see—white spots dancing in her vision—her gut contracting and her heart tightening to a breathless numb emptiness that felt it could only be filled by tears. She couldn't even—unlike her nameless demon—differentiate between her own feelings and the seals manipulation. It was all too much…too head spinning.

And, right then, Hinata gained a little more backbone.

She always did things for other people, to make them more comfortable—tried not to be weak, a burden, a disappointment, a useless dead weight. Well, she wasn't going to take _this_ hate lying down. Her clan could hate, her father could hate—hell, even her sister could hate, but she wasn't going to take that from _her demon_ without a fight. She'd hand her precious Naruto-kun over to the Akatsuki before she'd submissively allow this girl to hate her—which meant, never.

Hinata was going to do something about this. She'd do her best; she'd _fix_ whatever it was that made her demon so…so _broken_ and untrusting, she'd watch the light crawl back into those brightbright eyes and know _she did that_. That it was all for her. This was her self-appointed mission. It would hurt too much _not_ to try.

Her demon was not going to hate her when Hinata was through, Hinata would see that smile again.

_And she never goes back on her word._

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**AN: **My _god_, that's a long chapter. (37 pages on word) Sorry for those who can't stand long chappies. But I _am_ kind of proud *preens*

Okay, I can't speak Latin (which is the 'Demon Language'). I'm using Google Translate, which is a godsend I tell you. So, the latin that I use will probably be choppy, unrefined etcetera, etcetera. I will have translations of what I meant though, don't worry about being confused or left in the dark. Anyway, if it's wrong and you are all knowledgeable on ze Latin language, send me a message, review, whatever, and I'll change it. I'll need proof you're not phony though—'cause changing it will involve effort and I'm lazy as hell, so I want it to be right. *grins unashamedly around*

**PS: **I hope Tsumibitoko's not Mary Sue. I've tried to give her flaws—eg. She's arrogant, defiant, quite selfish, short-tempered, scheming, insesitive, cruel, manipulative, awkward and snappish in 'personal' or 'sentimental' or 'too close to home' moments, highly defensive and smirks a lot (probably an annoying trait)—but I've tried to make her likeable as well. *reads over flaws and pulls a paled, daunted face* I hope it's working okay, she has her reasons, which will become apparent in later chapters. Pinkie promise.

Anywho, I'm really loving and hating the challenge of writing my own character! It's so fun, but so frustrating *does patented facedesk*


	3. the eyes say as much as the tongue

**AN:** Okay…I have a feeling this fic will be slow starting. I can feel the headache building in my cranium*moans, grips head* This is agony, but I just can't stop…*shakes fist weakly at heavens*

**Disclaimer:** Couldn't own Naruto if I tried. 'Sall Masashi Kishimoto's, though I do own Tsumibitoko no Youkai, Masao Tanaka and a few others that may or may not appear later on in the grand scheme. Who the frick knows, with my runaway brain. So keep your grubby mits off.

**Little something's I listened to while writing this: **Sell Your Soul by Hollywood Undead, Monster by Skillet, Ghost Walking and Hit the Wall by Lamb of God, Evil Angel by Breaking Benjamin and a ton of others I can't remember.

**Edited a lot 30/05/2012**

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**These Binds that Tie Us ****_or_**** Shatter the Preconceptions****  
**{Chapter Three: The Eyes Say As Much As the Tongue}  
_arc I hand on the gate_

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**_PRESENT DAY_**

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_**Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Training Ground 14—abandoned.**_

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Tsumibitoko stared up at the sky, watching the afternoon light glint of the breeze-brushed leaves and grass around her. She was propped against a thick oak with rough bark, smoking and wishing it could relax her like the human addiction should.

Parting her lips, she watched ghostly smudges of grey seep from her mouth in a wobbly ring to the sky above her—melding with the blue and white of clouds and blinding sun illuminating the tops of trees. A small triumphant smirk molded her lips at the mundane accomplishment, a glint of teeth captured before drifting off on the breeze like her thoughts and smoke.

It was the afternoon of the next day of her arrival in leaf—and she was currently waiting for Hinata to rock up, stick around for a few hours, before being sending the heiress on her merry way. Just to give herself a daily dose of fullness.

Tsumibitoko had chosen a training ground because, one, it was out of the way, and private—most ninja didn't barge into a training ground if they could sense other ninja there already, it was like…shinobi social etiquette 101. Not written in stone—or anywhere really—but abided by, none the less. They all knew sometimes it was safer to avoid other ninja training, who knew if or what kind of emotions they may be channeling and letting out? Ninjas were angsty and had brooding, bloody, troubled pasts by default. It was self-preservation thing (differentiating an enemy from ally can be hard when you're in the zone) as well as a recognition of privacy—a respect to being human behind all the blood and kunai. It was an acknowledged privilege—since solitude could be inordinately hard to find in a ninja village. And two, Tsumibitoko figured it might get Hinata to train (they _were_ in a training ground)—as there wouldn't be much else to do and it was the easiest option. This had a couple benefits. Tsumibitoko would get to see the skills of their Daemon Cantrix—see if she was up to par—and it would also lessen the chance for…_conversation_.

Tsumibitoko wanted none of that. She just wanted to feel like how she once did, a demon, for a few hours each day (something she could _do_ now! She could still barely get past that fact), the demon girl didn't want to have to talk with someone she detested violently during her savoring those few minutes. No matter what feelings were forced on her by the seal, they weren't her own, and she _refused_ to allow them to dictate any one of her actions. She wouldn't admit it, but she was scared to. She'd confess to being angry though, that wasn't a weakness. She wouldn't let the seal take over and control her own feelings, thoughts and proceedings.

…Even if…they kind of were now…with her being here and all…and her thinking about it…and angsting over it.

…

…Goddammit.

Tsumibitoko scowled.

What-the fuck-ever. She still felt a bit better just having that _slight_ rebellion. She was such a sucker for temptation (it's what got her in this whole mindfuck of a mess in the beginning anyway), so screw it; she was proud of herself for holding out.

Tsumibitoko sighed a little, grumbling under her breath. _Ah, fuck it all. I have no excuses. But I'm still a stubborn little shit and I'll dig my heels in for the damn sake of it! _Vigor renewed, the demon girl quickly slumped from her pose (dramatic fist-pump on a cliff edge, waves crashing up behind her) and glanced around to check to see if anyone saw her—un-necessary paranoia, but she _was_ in a ninja village. Filled with people like _Kakashi Hatake_, the last of the Sanin—what's-her-name-of-the-big-titties—and Sasuke Uchiha. She only bothered to remember those three pups simply because, one, the Sanin lady was old (by human standards, laughable by demons), therefore, there was more time for her existence to sink into Tsumibitoko's range of acknowledgement and memory banks…and those two others had the Sharingan. She shuddered violently. And they were powerful fucks with it. She utterly shit herself at the thought of that Uchiha-kit, as Kyuubes would call him. He terrified her to basic primal levels. He had freaking _mangekyo_ (able to control demons implicitly) and insane lightening tricks (her natural enemy). Tsumibitoko's shudder grew stronger. In her mind, Sasuke Uchiha had a 'flee-on-sight' warning—and Kakashi was no better. _That_ man had more experience in the ninja business…but, then again, the Uchiha-whelp had been trained by that creepy snake Sanin (quite the admirably evil bastard, if she said so), right? So, it was quite the toss-up of 'who I'd run from harder'.

Lightening was not fun. Tsumibitoko's scowl deepened. Her innate weakness, and both those insanely powerful users _had_ to have _Sharingan_. She almost turned and slammed her head against the tree-trunk. And then, of course, here _she_ was—risking her neck by electrocution and mangekyo mind-fuck all for getting a hit of Hinata Happy Demon Drug™. There was something almost masochistic about it, she mused, and not the whole, sexual thing—she'd smacked right back when someone she'd picked up off the street figured he'd get off on that shit—hers seemed to be the more 'willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences'. She was going grey before her time, dammit.

Tsumibitoko could only sob manly tears of joy and relief at the thought of Uchiha Itachi being dead. That was one scary mofo. She was just thankful to the point of deliriously grateful catatonic levels that he preferred fire to lightening—and the fact she'd never bumped into him in a dark alley before his little bro had off-ed him. Ninja had an irritating habit of springing out new jutsu's when you least expected them (it would've been just her luck if she'd got in a fight with the Itachi dude on one of her bigger jobs, only for him to pull a raiton jutsu out of his ass. That would've just _made. her. day._) But, alas, he was dead. So nothing to worry about.

…Apart from the fact that Itachi had been incredibly powerful and his brother had _killed him_ (thereby making him the stronger of the two) and Sasuke had lightening moves and he was still alive. And in this village.

…That tree was looking _really_ good to her forehead right now.

"I'm going to die. I'm going to _frickin. die_." She muttered under her breath gravely. Sure, she'd managed to infiltrate one of the biggest, strongest ninja villages, thereby being strong herself—but that's hardly a grand feat after being alive thousands of years and the fact she could disappear completely to even the most chakra attuned sensitive types just by sinking into the Earth and concentrating on becoming one with it. So, she knew it would only be a matter of time before these overly-suspicious leaf Nin figured something was up. She just freaking knew it—what with their Hyuuga heiress disappearing each day for a few hours in the future (as long as Tsumibitoko had any say in it) and Hinata probably becoming more confident (how can you not when you have all of demon-kind under your thumb?), _someone_ would get wise to what was going on and follow her or something and then they'd see Tsumibitoko and she'd be _royally fucked_. Fucked by a lightening jutsu is what she'd be.

A soft tap with two fingertips between her eyes brought her crashing out of her mentally-hyperventilating, panicked thoughts—almost taking the persons hand off as her reflexes lashed out in shock, swiping with her claw-like nails. _I must've been freaking out worse than I thought, if I didn't notice Hinat—I mean Hyuuga. _Tsumibitoko almost let out a sigh of relief at the familiar chakra and softly smiling face before her. Her adrenaline and panic was already receding, she felt better. More content, whole. Just the presence and smile, scent and sight, of the girl before her filled the demon female to the brim. She almost smiled lazily, but pressed her lips together and bit it back.

"Good M-Morning." Hinata greeted cheerily (apparently they had the same effect on each other), voice soft and a little shy. "Y-You seem distracted…I h-had to t-tap you to g-get your attention…Y-You're really interesting! Do you know you look so deep in th-thought most of the time? I-It's hard f-for anyone to guess wh-what you're thinking…It's f-fascinating, quite mysterious. Makes me w-wonder what y-you're th-thinking about."

Tsumibitoko blinked for a few seconds at the non-sequitor, before struggling down the blush that fought for dominance on her cheeks. _Since when do I _**_BLUSH_**_?-! _Her mind howled pitifully, watching as Hinata seemed to realize exactly what she'd said and turned the shade of a strawberry. _Good. Let her blush. _**_I_**_ DO NOT BLUSH._

Tsumibitoko shot Hinata a painfully withering glare, barely even acknowledging her presence (trying desperately to ignore the slight wince that came from the girl opposite her in response to her attitude) as she rooted around in her shorts pockets—still clad in the same clothes as yesterday—pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and tapping one free, ignoring the slight, petulant flush still cresting her cheekbones. Catching it between her lips, she searched for the dark red, transparent plastic throw-away lighter she'd nicked and quickly cupped it against her lips, the metallic flickering clicks like music to her ears as the spark wheel flashed against flint. Tsumibitoko swore slightly under her breath as the damn thing stubbornly refused to light, suddenly freezing an inch—cigarette stilling between her lips, still staring down at the lighter attached to its end—before her eyes slowly trailed from under her lashes to where Hinata was…watching her. Just watching her with a smile on her face.

"You got something to say?" She demanded gruffly around the cigarette still in her mouth, barely moving her lips—glaring a little. Hinata just shook her head happily, hands clasped together cheerily behind her and not looking away. Tsumibitoko's glare narrowed, but she dismissed the Hyuuga girl and went back to trying to catch a light—succeeding after a few tries.

"…You really sh-shouldn't smoke…it's b-bad for you."

The demon girl twitched so violently it was almost a spasm, snapping a glare filled with incredulous anger at Hinata. She caught the cigarette between her forefinger and middle, pulling it from her mouth.

"And who the fuck are you to tell me what's bad for me and what's not, hmm?" She demanded again, glare hardening. It was kind of hard to be furious when Hinata's eyes were only filled with concern. Like being mad at a cute bunny rabbit. It was like someone plucking at her conscience—something she hadn't thought existed—and her heartstrings—another thing she hadn't thought existed (she had a heart! Who knew?). Unfortunately, it seemed both were only activated in conjunction to this girl. The only other time that had happened had been with—…Keiko…but _never_ to this extent, not even close.

"I—…I'm not trying to tell you what t-to do…" Hinata said quietly, subdued, as she pressed her fore fingers together and stared at the ground. "I-It's…just a known fact…smoking c-causes lung cancer…a-and l-lung cancer…kills…"

"Yeah, well, not Youkai. We're stronger than you _humans_. Our insides don't pick up human weaknesses like that. You obviously don't know nothing about demon-kind then, do you?" Tsumibitoko growled, trying to ignore the guilt clogging her throat. This was pissing her off. Why the hell didn't this girl get angry or cry at her verbal abuse? Why didn't Hinata just leave and give it up as a lost cause? Why did she just _stand_ there and cause Tsumibitoko's heart to ache, taking her rudeness in stride and emitting only…_worry_? There was obviously something wrong with the Hyuuga heiresses thought and reasoning processes.

Hinata mumbled something. "What?" Tsumibitoko spat angrily.

"Uhm…i-it's 'don't kn-know anything'…n-not 'd-d-don't know…n-_nothing'_…" Hinata practically whispered, shifting a little and glancing up rapidly to meet her gaze before her eyes darted down again.

Tsumibitoko didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Both the corners of her lips and her right eye twitched manically as her body fought over two decisions. _She's…correcting my grammar…well, fuck me sideways. I treat her like shit and she…she corrects my grammar…_

"Are you anal or something…?" She finally managed, wanting to strangle herself immediately at the almost-_almost_-soft amusement blatant in her tone. The strained almost-smile ached at the corners of her lips—an odd, twistedly amused/horrified/conflicted/taken aback look on her face. _Damndamndammit! _

Hinata seemed to perk up a bit, something that made Tsumibitoko feel less like a monster—and made her face want to introduce itself to a tree more than ever.

"Ano…n-not really…m-my family c-can be though…" The dark haired girl glanced around like she'd said an atrocious swear and was expecting an ANBU to pop out any minute from the underbrush, screaming righteously with katana held aloft in vengeance for such atrocious blasphemy. "…I w-was just b-being scolded by m-my father not a m-minute before s-so I suppose i-it might've rubbed off on m-me a bit…" Hinata's smile faded to a sad upturn of lips—a light dimming in her eyes so excruciatingly so (empty of all the softness and kindness and warmth that was _Hinata_) that Tsumibitoko was chomping at the bit with the urge to pull an Uchiha Itachi and massacre the Hyuuga clan. _Slowly and painfully_.

Then her mouth was moving without her consent. It was gaining a sentient mind of its own lately.

"_Don't let them do that._" Her voice was such a vehement and intense hiss it almost shocked herself, eyes burning and fists shaking—Hinata's own eyes widened as she blinked at Tsumibitoko in confusion. "**_Don't_** let them get to you like that—because I swear to _god_ I'll _ream_ them all_ limb from fucking limb!_"

She almost slapped a hand over her mouth—_arrgh! Fucking seal making me act like a bi-polar psycho!_—but had more self-control than that, and only choked a little, the corners of her eyes tightening before she chomped down on her cigarette, not looking into wide, stunned white-tinged-violet like she'd just been. _Fucking fuckity fucker fucking fucking fucks! Where the hell did that come from?-! And like I have any right to say that anyway! I _**_hate_**_ her! _**_I_**_ treat her like shit! Who am I to talk?-! That's so hypocritical! I don't care how much those Hyuuga hurt her anywa—…oh fuckity fucking ARGH!_ Her chest was doing that cruel aching thing again, like she'd managed to injure herself with her own thoughts. How weak this was all making her. _Sweet baby Buddha that tree has no right to look so tempting to my forehead. Maybe some brain damage will stop this insanity._

"Forget it." She muttered; voice almost strangled like she wanted to swallow back those words—a strained quiet to her tone. "Never mind. My mouth just…fuck it." The last two words were almost a sulky mutter. _I'm letting it get to me. Not an hour in, and my resolve is crumbling like a sloppy house of cards. _

It took all the restraint she had not to puff away at her cigarette anxiously like that odd 'train' contraption she'd seen put to use in northern Iwa—a litany of swears trailing through her head enough to make even Tayuya of the Sound flush red.

Almost half a minute of silence passed, only broken by the light wind rustling leaves, grass and flowers in the old, abandoned training ground—Tsumibitoko not daring to take a peek and see Hinata's reaction to her…whatever it was…protective, possessive instincts?

Suddenly…a thought came to mind. So obvious that Tsumibitoko was almost in pain from thinking about the amount of stupidity that must have accumulated in her brain to not think of it before. She'd been so focused on keeping a tight hold upon her restraint and self-control, on not letting the seal get to her, and her own selfish needs—that she hadn't even thought of the blatantly evident.

Tsumibitoko had said (in the rainforest that changed _everything_) that Hinata needed to get a grip on her abilities, but since she'd been leaving Tsumibitoko couldn't do it, and the Hyuuga girl would have to find another demon. But, (against her better judgment and willpower, perhaps) Tsumibitoko was here now—and not going anywhere anytime soon. _Why the hell shouldn't _**_I_**_ train and spar with Hinata?_ As an added bonus, it wouldn't give them any chance to talk about anything other than training—a purely professional sensei-pupil relationship—and the heiress would be brought up to appropriate speed to be a suitable Daemon Cantrix. Perfect. Tsumibitoko was stuck with Hinata a few hours each day anyway—why not keep them both in shape?

_Well, you might want to work up the damn balls to look her in the eyes first. _Her brain reminded her wryly. It was infinitely hard not to whine back 'I don' _wanna_!'

Tsumibitoko sighed roughly, forcing down her flush, and crushed her cigarette in a fist, letting it crumple and stuffing its warm remains in her pocket (she never did forgive herself for littering in Chuuou City, when she'd been in such a hurry to find 'voice-girl' that she'd dropped her cigarette). Blowing out her last, casual breath of smoke, Tsumibitoko squinted her eyes against the thick grey sting. The demon girl frowned slightly at Hinata, shifting her head so she could catch the other female in her scope of vision. Her voice was gruff, and defensive, a little embarrassed, when she muttered, "Wanna spar 'r som'thin'?" barely moving her dry lips, the taste of the cigarette, wet dirt, grass and molten honey on her tongue.

Catching glimpse of a small start, then a faltered nod—though Tsumibitoko had no idea as to what emotion made Hinata start _or_ falter, and didn't want to-cum-couldn't be bothered to decipher it—a small grin upturned her lips. Not of happiness or amusement, more like cold, vicious, hard triumph.

_And maybe I can use this as a way to build up defense against the seal. I can slowly, slowly work my way up from scratching Hinata, to injuring Hinata, then killing Hinata._ A sharp pain stabbed between her lungs, leaving it a throbbing agony of tight-throated guilt and fear and grief, almost paralyzing her. A punishment from the seal. But, the demon girl knew that she could build up resistance to it—she _had_ to—as the force of the emotions inflicted on her had already waned from exposure and longevity of the seals activity. And, one day, she could gut her Daemon Cantrix (be free of the curse and the bind) without regret or heartache. She'd've done it long before now if she could—if Hinata had been any ordinary human.

Hey, she'd slaughtered a man because she liked and wanted his t-shirt—you could hardly say she gave a shit about anyone's life but her own. And she did not want to spend _her_ life tied to a mortal like some eager-to-please, gibbering, devoted fool.

Tsumibitoko, grin widening ferociously—like the blade of a mirror-bright kunai, all teeth and no smile, dangerously sharp—lashed out, fist just brushing Hinata's cheek as the girl's ninja-honed instincts set in on reflex and leaned her head back the deciding inch. Hinata barely had time to widen her eyes in alarm, still reeling from the adrenaline spark that had made her dodge—her body taking over due to shock—before Tsumibitoko had twisted—hips snapping—and driven an unforgiving knee into her gut, full of momentum. The Hyuuga girl doubled over; choking a small spray of stunned blood across the ground at the _force_ and _strength_ hidden in those slim, strong, tanned limbs—before being thrown with a sharp cry, _slam_, into a tree a few meters away by the impetus, crumpling uncomfortably to the ground.

"Well?" Tsumibitoko cocked a condescending eyebrow, gaze withering (and Hinata had an uninvited, rather heart-rending, superimposed glimpse of her father in those cold golden eyes, flashed white and unfeeling, disappointed and _hating_), "I _said_ spar. Shouldn't you be prepared for my attack?"

Catching Hinata's wide-eyed, still shocked look, as she struggled to straighten up—and failed due to the pain radiating from her abdomen that left her gasping and doubling over—Tsumibitoko snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Oh. Right. Ninja like to stand opposite each other first and get into position when 'sparring'. No catching them unawares or nothing, all noble and gallant. That's bullshit. Any good shinobi worth their salt won't let you do that in battle, sweet-cakes. There is no honor in war. Ninja are sneaky and deceptive and cruel. They'll attack from your blindside, use every inch of weakness against you, and trick-trick-trick with smoke and mirrors till you're dead. There's no time for the flashy jutsu's and colorful parlor tricks that have commercialized and romanticized a job that _really_, is all about assassinating from the shadows, kicking your opponent when they're down and stabbing people in the back. Kids come strutting into the academy's, expecting honor and power and rescuing princesses and showy explosions and all that fancy shit they gloss over in the movies and history books."

She bent over, glaring viciously at Hinata with hands on hips and gritted snarl on teeth, as the Hyuuga slumped against the tree. Hinata had a feeling this rant was something Tsumibitoko had been bottling up for a while—wanting to scream it to the heavens every time she saw something that got it riled up. All Hinata could do at this point, physically and mentally, was watch and listen.

"_There. Is. No. Honor._ Do you _know_ how many ninja break their nindou? 'Never leave a teammate behind'? 'Never betray'? 'Never go back on my promises'? Where is the honor in destroying your soul-bound principle? They're all just fancy words to humans, fancy words with no binding and no contract. You can shout them from the rooftops, write them in your own blood, tattoo them to your skin, and that's all they'll ever be. Loud, decorative words. You can believe in them all you want, trust in them and yourself, but you'll _never_ be bound by them like demons are. That is why nindou are broken. _You're. only. _**_human_**_._ Promises are for the weak and naïve because only the hardened and wise know there is no honor—know that there is no way to uphold. Because for all those moments you manage to sustain your nindou, two more moments when you have to sacrifice those pretty words are waiting in the wings to make you realize that _honor_ is just an appealing word that lies through its teeth and laughs at your ignorance."

She was shaking with fury now, Hinata staring—feeling utterly demoralized and grief-stricken at the utter lack of faith in general humanity, of the goodness in people, stitched firmly in those burning golden eyes. Hinata could see hatred feeding the demon girl, see her clinging to it, see her letting the odium engulf her in violent crashing waves because it was all she had left that was sane. Because she felt if she let that go, she'd be lost and vulnerable—like a last defense against…everything. It was agonizing to watch, and Hinata felt like an insignificant bug beneath those eyes, because she was one of the things Tsumibitoko was so trying to protect herself from.

It just strengthened her resolve to break down those barriers.

"You're right." Hinata said, softly—quietly, voice slightly shell-shocked. "Honor is a word for fools and innocents; it's a lie at the most basic form. It's a pretty word of fluff and inconsequence.(And she saw something break in those golden eyes, the hope that Hinata was different, that she would save Tsumibitoko—though suppressed and denied—shattering because she _had_ wished—somewhere, deep down—for the heiress to rescue her from herself. It was covered immediately, but it had been there.

She watched as a tanned fist clenched in that bloodied t-shirt, over her demonic heart that still beat like a humans.

And Hinata's decision set itself in stone.)

The Hyuuga girl straightened slowly, still using the tree as a support as she unwaveringly stared into gold eyes.

"B-But, do you know the definition of the honor you talk about? You're thinking of the noun, 'adherence to what is _right_ or to a conventional standard of conduct'. That's not what ninja do. I know that. Ninja are not that kind of honorable, because we are murders and deceptive and violent. We obey orders because we are loyal and trained to be obedient and protect, it's all we know. Never honorable in the noun sense.

"That's not what we mean when we say 'honor'.

"What we think of? We think of the verb. We think of grace, of privilege, of respect—we think of the times when our nindou's are upheld because they rescue us from the agony when they aren't.

"We think of _honoring_ our words—because though we are not tied to them the ways demons may be—it takes _so_ much more strength to uphold them when we have a choice, than if we were forced to, like your kind.

"We think of honoring our ancestors, honoring the dead, of protecting civilians, of perishing with dignity, of our homes and our brothers and sisters in arms, the place we were born and bred and came from that we would die saving. We think of honor on the front lines, because, sometimes, it's the only thing that can help you—save you—when you think of death. Thinking of being _honored_ and remembered yourself, your sacrifice held close to someone's heart; even if it's just your family and friends. It can be the only reprieve.

"It's a pretty word, and pointless, yes. Sometimes, all honor does is hide acts of dishonor with as much smoke and mirrors as shinobi—but the world is not as black and white as you paint it. Sometimes, all you have to do, all you _can_ do, is look for the color. Understand?…Th-That is our honor."

Hinata could see with searching, nervous eyes, that her words—though not instantly healing the maw of empty lack of faith—were like a thin layer of warm balm. Many more words would need to come on a variety of different subjects before her demon began feeling anything close to trust and healing after millennia of seeing only hatred and pain and betrayal. She saw something close to brittle, wary understanding; disgust and contempt, yes, but grudging acceptance in the lines of an ancient, youthful face. Something thawing to a simmer of warmth in the depth of frozen gold eyes.

Tsumibitoko snorted, all the emotions on that face dashed in the wake of her—not pity, pitying had to involve some sort of sympathy and feeling to the receiver, other than hatred—it was more like the disdainful deriding scorn of a particularly cold-hearted, wealthy human looking down their nose at a begging orphan. It had a fraction of similarity to those stares Naruto-kun used to get, (that he used to grin back at, determined to win) but there was too much 'holier than thou' disparagement for it to be a perfect replica.

"Then humans are weaker than I thought." Hinata felt something shrink painfully in her chest, constricting around her lungs. "They need to live in denial and spout pretty, empty speeches just to feel good about themselves."

Hinata glared, all forms of shyness to the wind, these insults were _too_ much, snapping as she shot up straight—pain forgotten to a tight ache below her chest. "Isn't that what you're doing too? Running? Weak we may be, but at least we know when to stand and face—at least we can own up to the fact that we run!"

"I never said I didn't know I was running!" Tsumibitoko roared, instantly replying, before her jaw dropped a little in shock—glare suddenly hardening as she visibly bristled, "And who the hell are you to tell me I run?-! It's none of your fucking business!"

Hinata stomped forwards, fists tight by her sides, "You don't just _run_, you **_hide_**!" She snarled, frustration bubbling and breaking a dam somewhere inside her. Her demon seemed to have a knack for not just bringing the worst out in her, but just _bringing her out_. Of her shell, out of her shyness. Her opinions, her feelings, _everything_; all bared open and displayed without stutter. "And 'none of my business'?-! '_None of my business_'?-! It was _made_ my business the moment we shook hands, and how _dare_ you judge humans when you can't take judgment yourself! _Hypocrite_!"

"I'LL JUDGE ALL I DAMN WANT TO, WOMAN! THEY HAVE DONE DEMONS TOO MANY WRONGS FOR ME TO SIT AND SMILE LIKE SOME DOCILE FUCKING IDIOT WHILE THEY FUCK SHIT UP, _WEAK_ AND _UNWORTHY_!" Tsumibitoko howled, fury flashing across the molten gold surface of endless rippling eyes.

Hinata knew she was shouting, oh god, she was _screaming_ (her father would have a conniption—heck, she herself would faint dead away if she was in her right mind—she wasn't even _stuttering_)—but she was _so damn angry _that Hinata could hardly see straight for the red tinting her vision.

"UNWORTHY OF WHAT, HUH? OF LIVING? WHO'RE YOU TO DECIDE THAT?-! WHO THE GODDAMN _HELL_—"oh god, she was swearing too, _cursing_; a panic attack was on the horizon—ARE YOU TO JUDGE WHO OF MY RACE LIVES AND DIES? BOTH OUR SPECIES ARE TO BLAME FOR WRONGS DONE TO EACH OTHER! STANDING THERE AND HATING ISN'T MAKING ANYTHING GO AWAY, IMPROVE _OR_ MAKE YOU SUPERIOR! IT MAKES YOU _NO BETTER THAN ANY OTHER HUMAN_!"

The whole training ground could probably hear them (yelling like thunder in each other's faces, scarlet and trembling with rage, anger thrumming hot in veins human and demon alike) but both were too far gone for self-preservation, and the Hyuuga heiress could only hope—somewhere vague and ghostlike in her subconscious beneath the fury and injustice and hurt and confusion—that her perceived volume of their voices was an overstatement.

**"****_DON'T YOU DARE COMPARE ME TO A MORTAL, WOMAN!_****" **Tsumibitoko lunged at Hinata, the girl almost frozen in place by the intense rumbling ferocity of icy killing intent in that demonic voice—enough to make her brain freeze and head spin, blood trembling beneath her skin in terror.

Hinata didn't have time to dodge the fist, so, in her fury, her own instinctively came up and they slammed—agonizing knuckle to agonizing knuckle—into each other. It took all she had not to scream in excruciating pain. Bone buckling, wrist crumpling, crushing; forearm fracturing, like an earthquake all the way up her arm, leaving destruction in its wake.

It was damn humiliating that all Tsumibitoko did was shake out her hand a little afterwards.

"_Weak_!" She sneered, actually spitting on Hinata's hair—saliva dribbling on long dark locks—and the heiress screamed furiously at the cruel show of disrespect, byakugan blazing to life like a star (unwilling to die, _refusing_ to give up and burn out) igniting obdurately for all the world to see—lunging at the demon girl with a war cry howling off her lips—

"_I'M NOT WEAK_!"

—her uninjured hand slamming a merciless jyuuken strike—two fingers, precise, emitting a sharp jab of chakra—into a tenketsu between shoulder an collar bone, knowing the agony that came with it (not just from the blocked tenketsu, but from fingers being dug between bone and muscle). Tsumibitoko cried out, hand slapping over it—glaring and spinning like a wildcat into a crouch to escape Hinata's range and disrupt her aim. All the ferocity of a tiger sprung behind a vicious, modified turning back kick that slammed into the heiress's chest, the demon girls free un-numbed-and-tingling fingertips brushing the earth almost innocently—before a thick stump of stone slammed into Hinata from behind, caught between foot and apparently almost cognizant earth, head thrown back as blood choked into the air from her mouth in the form of a sharp cry, eyes wide. That made the whole terrain an enemy.

Hinata was thrown forwards—the two forces suddenly halting with their war on her body, one wanting to push her ahead, the other back—when the foot disappeared and the forwards momentum won. It sent her tumbling as Tsumibitoko just slid aside—foot levering her form, moving in a quarter circle almost painfully graceful—shifting and leaning herself just an inch out of the way as Hinata was thrown past by the thick rod of earth, barely a millimeter from collision, hair billowing and whipping on both female.

The Hyuuga heiress rolled quickly over the ground, tumbling head-over-heels, springing up and turning with a scrape of earthen dust about her ninja sandals as she skidded backward by the force of the earthen-stump—pulling into a jyuuken stance and charging immediately, useless hand dangling—

"_NINJA AREN'T WEAK_!"

—rapid, blurring strikes and hits were blocked with fleshy thumps (Hinata dodging rapidly to make up for her slack arm)—Tsumibitoko toying with the Hyuuga girl if the small smirk burned upon her lips was any indication, not giving it her all remotely. It infuriated the heiress, reminded her of the Hyuuga training courtyard and cold eyes.

The demon girl struck out, leg flashing in a sideways arc, Hinata bending backwards in a spine-snapping dodge, a calming mouthful of air breathing out as the booted foot just grazed above her face in what felt like adrenaline-fueled slow motion. Tsumibitoko spun into another crouch from the kick, to keep her balance and make an easy transition into a wide ankle-sweep.

Hinata—still bending back, just glimpsing the foot now zooming around again to take her off her feet and into an ungainly sprawl—kept the momentum of her flexible, immaculately-balanced-but-crazy-looking dodge, unable to utilize her hands (_incapable of moving them fast enough to gain sturdy traction and friction on the grass to flip over backwards_, her awareness raced with almost unthinking adrenaline speed, _besides, my injured upper-limb wouldn't support me anyway_) she did it without hands.

Pulling off the backwards aerial flip armless, Hinata was almost shocked at the triumph—the adrenaline and _fightfightfight_ coursing through her having given her the boost needed to replace practice and skill—quite the impressive feat considering the split-_split_ second planning needed, incredible speeds, un-timed precision, perfect execution and flexibility off the charts. She'd always been supple and lithe, it's what made fighting against her so formidable in its own way—her ability to twist and bend around to get her jyuuken strikes in, a powerful combination for a Hyuuga, not that her father would ever admit it or notice or care—(that and her 'never say die' attitude) but this was…something else.

She almost grinned as she landed in a barely-stumbling crouch, regaining her balance, the rush of pride, adrenaline, shock and triumphant zeal bubbling beatifically through her, almost euphoric in excitement—

"_HUMAN'S AREN'T WEAK_!"

She'd never pulled something like that off before.

Hinata dove forwards (unhindered by nervousness, fueled by anger and brought high on the wings of 'indestructible' by the thrumming blood in her veins). Both demon and human had slashes of exhilarated grins on their faces; more a bearing of teeth than a smile, but it was shared. One was slightly more evil and arrogantly challenging than the other, the other purely uninhibited in beaten pride and anger. No clan's opinions and protocol to worry about, no 'am I too weak? Too unfeminine? Would father disapprove? Would Naruto-kun be disgusted?' Suddenly, opinions didn't…_matter_ to her anymore. Just her, the fight, and a demon whose name she'd never learned. _I really have to remedy that… _a small, distracted part of her murmured, the fraction un-tinted by red, the part still logical and floating under the tide of Hinata's In-The-Zone mind.

The Hyuuga girls outstretched arm, prepared for a jyuuken strike, was suddenly gripped at her wrist—another hand whipping up to grip beneath her shoulder on her bicep, even as her foot (in place of her other hand that wouldn't move for shattered agony) kicked up to simply force Tsumibitoko to jump back and let go. It was too slow, and Hinata was catapulted—the demon girl bracing, heels digging in, hips shifting under her opponents center of gravity, and thrown effortlessly over shoulder, high into the air—crashing painfully to the ground after a world-spinning, gravity-shaking, gut-wrenching moment as the sky twirled and ground twisted from their natural alignment.

Hinata found herself flat on her back, unable to breathe, dull pain lancing down he spine and digging into her tailbone—so she could barely move, let alone groan as her protesting organs insisted.

After her mind finally stopped waltzing around the training field and returned to her skull, Hinata's disorientated brain sent its signals, and she struggled, as she always would, to her feet. It was a straining process, trying to figure out what the hell her body was doing and trying to get her brain to send the right signals to the right muscles and _wow that tree's suddenly way to close did I stagger a bit?_ She finally regained her equilibrium, panting a little and wobbling.

Tsumibitoko simply regarded her; head cocked to the side, frustratingly poised, like a curious woodland creature—measuring her up with wary eyes—just standing there. The demon girl had an odd expression, like she had previously made some decision—come to some conclusion that she had been _sure_ about—and Hinata wasn't sticking to the facts, to the script. A little puzzled, a tad frustrated, and all considering and evaluating at once.

The hate still burned strong in golden eyes.

"_I'M…NOT…_**_WEAK_**!"

There was a small pause as the clearing seemed to silence, Hinata panting a little after her final outburst and glaring with pumped byakugan eyes—only just now realizing that, despite it having been 'switched on' during the whole fight, some sort of odd…glowing golden shield that covered the other girls every contour was preventing her from seeing the demon girls chakra canals. Wait…not a shield…

…there _were_ no chakra canals.

Hinata stood, forgetting her slowing panting, forgetting the fight and her aches and pains—utterly dumbstruck by this abnormal, unnatural phenomena standing before her like nothing was wrong.

_She should be dead._ A small, horrified, awed voice whispered hoarsely in her mind—summing up all of her sentiments in one sentence as she stared at the glowing, pulsating, writhing, _burning_ mass of bright _golden_ chakra, tinted a darker honey around the edges where it just…disappeared. Just faded into the nature and sky and earth around it, blending like some natural part of the habitat around it…like…a being of chakra…of the earth…

There were no chakra canals because the demon _was_ chakra. A massive, vortex of unstoppable nature, a bright scorching plethora of energy that wouldn't stop _moving_. There were no containers, no restraints like the simple-but-complicated human system that expelled if you concentrated and was neatly contained in vines underneath the skin—no, this chakra was being emptied, _wasted_, as it was burned for energy and exorcised into its surroundings like…an endless…cycle…recycle. A part of the earth, a-a growth of the earth that lived off it, a rotating succession as she gained infinite energy from her surroundings and gave it back to be reused. The demon girl before Hinata wasn't so much chakra-through-and-through (molecule to atom), as a bloody _filter_ for it—not a being, not an individual, just part of a bigger, greater whole. She wasn't so much as a thinking breathing humanoid-being, as a tree. A powerful tree. It was…quite unsettling. The Hyuuga girl suddenly, desperately, needed to sit down.

_Holy Buddha on a stick._ That same voice again conquered all possible vocabulary to give her the words that summed up this whole insane moment and situation.

"Cat got your tongue, Singer-san?" Tsumibitoko sneered, head still cocked in a parody of innocence—the thrill of the fight fading from both of them.

_Yeah,_ Hinata's mind snarked immediately, even her thoughts shocked enough for them to sound anesthetized by surprise, still too struck-dumb to censor her brain and its automatic responses into something more befitting a Hyuuga heiress. _"How are you alive?" for one. That would be a _**_great_**_ start, clear the air and all before we start giggling, watching chick-flicks, swapping girly stories, flipping hair and eating chocolate daintily—_

Hinata finally managed to quell her shock enough to regain her runaway, sarcasm-drenched thoughts. _That's enough of _**_that_**_._

She decided to take the more diplomatic direction—figuring her demon was still a _bit_ too defensive and hating to spill her wicked chakra secrets, even as Hinata's Hyuuga ingrained instincts chomped at the bit to interrogate, _because seriously, Hyuuga see _**_everything_**_ to do with chakra and I've _**_never_**_ seen anything like this before,_ and ask _what the hell's up with your chakra?_ and _how does it work precisely?_ and _oooh could you show me some jutsu so I can see how it channels or fluctuates while being expelled and used? _and_ can you even _**_do_**_ jutsu without the focus point and control that chakra canals provide?_

"U-Uhm…" Hinata stuttered, blinking and licking dry lips distractedly, realizing her demon _knew_ what effect she was having by the widening smirk on tanned mouth. "A-Ano…I-I…"

…_Where was I?_

…—_Oh, right, angry at the complete lack of regard for human life and humans in general…uhh…uh…the hypocrisy?…Oh dang, it must have been pretty good to get me so angry…but, for the life of me all I can think of is glowing gold chakra—…_

"O-Oh, yeah! _I'm n-not weak_!" Hinata's voice regained its vigor. Eyebrows drawn downwards in determination and subconsciously pulling into as much as a defensive pose as she could.

Tsumibitoko's jaw all but hit the ground.

"B-B-But—!" The demon girl took her unexpected turn to stammer, pointing a little rudely at Hinata. "Y-Y-You! Wh-…what kind of—?-!…What kind of fucking human are you?-!" She cried to the heavens, thudding into an (again) unexpected pile of Tsumibitoko on the ground, curled up slightly, knees almost on either side of her apparently_ sulking_ head, hands flopped on the ground between them. Hinata just stared, knocked completely off kilter (_again_) by the turn of events.

"Just when you think you've got them _all_ figured out…!" Tsumibitoko muttered, almost petulant and bitter, "Damn unpredictable humans…how dare they do what I least expect…for shits and giggles…" was all Hinata caught.

"U-Uhmm…" the Hyuuga girl pursed her lips, eyebrows now skewered upwards, "I'm…n-not weak?"

Tsumibitoko snorted violently, her shoulders heaving upwards, surprising Hinata a little, leveling a look as flat as her voice in the paler girls' direction. "Evidently not as much as I thought. You are…_adequate_…for now. There's room for improvement, but your improvisation in battle is commendable, as is your agility. But, strength needs to be worked at, your _tenacity_ is astounding, and your speed is…" her face twisted to something almost grudgingly reluctant, "quite impressive, though there's room for improvement. Whether you are good enough to appropriately _apply_ these abilities is a whole other story."

"Uhm…" Slipped past Hinata's lips, eyes still a little wider than usual. _Is she…complimenting…me…in a roundabout backhanded way?_ A small burst of warm, tentative pride suffused the Hyuuga girl's chest as she gently scratched her cheek in pleased confusion.

"One day, you might even be able to fight me while I'm serious."

_Ah. _Hinata deadpanned, hand flopping, sweatdropping at the merry brunette,_ pride's gone._ She relished in the smile gifted upon her though, even if it was mocking exuberance in the vulpine grin, all teeth and no feeling—eerily reminiscent of Naruto's cheerful trademark. It was still a smile, not the warmth Hinata wanted again, but it was a smile, not a smirk.

"H-How _g-gracious_ of y-you," slipped past her lips, a quiet mumble as dry as the desert as she pouted slightly. Hinata gave a shaky gasp, slapping a shocked, appalled hand over her mouth in horror. Tsumibitoko just blinked, stared at the dark-haired girl for a second, Hinata starting to stumble out apologies—remembering the flash of her father in golden eyes—then the brunette started laughing. Just laughing. That free, bubbly noise—like a burst of surprised, delighted fresh air—like there was nothing wrong in the whole world. And Hinata was reminded this _wasn't_ her Otou-sama.

_The only way to gain trust is to give it. Be yourself…just…let go._

The laughter choked off with an awkward cough—Hinata catching a slightly disgusted, 'WTF' look in golden eyes at the expressing of amusement, before that too was stuffed away into blank obscurity. The pang in Hinata's chest was all too obvious.

A similar pang rang up and down her arm, radiating pain through shattered bones. The Hyuuga girls lips parted on a silent scream-cum-yelp of pain, eyes widening as the numbing effects of adrenaline, subconscious ninja-trained pain-suppressing techniques and distraction wore off to remind her how busted up she was. A couple cracked ribs, a demolished arm—

That was as far as she got in her injury inventory (_how had she missed half of that?_) before her legs gave out beneath her, tumbling forwards and trying to brace with watery, pain-wrung muscles for the horrid impact no doubt about to jar her whole frame.

Impossibly warm arms hurriedly wrapped about her torso, gently lowering her to the ground before disappearing like they didn't want to touch her in the first place.

There was what seemed to be a hesitant pause as Hinata whimpered in agony—clutching her arm as delicately as possible—noises of unwilling worry and conflicting thought breaking the pause from above her. Then the unbelievably warm hands were back, spiraling comfort through her haze of pain as they flittered nervously over her, touching here and there like they didn't know what to do. Hinata felt that was probably true, her demon most likely healed way too quickly for her to ever have to worry about first-aid.

"U-Uhm Tsumibitoko stuttered, "O-Oh god, uh—_Jesus Christ_," her voice was shaking in response to seeing the girl in such broken anguish, Hinata's arm radiating unholy amounts of pain. The heiress had broken limbs before, but not to this shattered extent. "O-Okay, uhh, I know an anesthetic medical jutsu, just numbing the pain—it's the only one that was really useful to me anyway since I heal so fast," she muttered the last part before continuing, "I'll s-set the bones, okay? I promise it won't hurt, oh god," She whimpered when Hinata spasmed, her ribs reluctant to let her breathe as they tightened in delicate fractured throbbing around her lungs, "I-I'm so sorry," her voice sounded thick with emotion, making the Hyuuga girls pain intensify in guilt—Tsumibitoko was too far gone to even realize she was letting her emotions get away from her, at the point of _apologizing_. "I-I'll make it better, I promise."

The familiar cool invasion of healing chakra, the well-known hum in the air relaxed Hinata slightly—her body instinctively knowing, like muscle memory, that easing of the pain and repair was to follow. A twinge of relief whispered through her, feeling numbness seep upon her arm like a dead weight—enclosing her torso.

She hazed in and out of consciousness, barely feeling the hands on her, shifting her into a supported sitting position and slipping off her jacket carefully, hearing the tearing of cloth, the strange, irregular, numb jerking she'd feel in her arm (odd to not feel pain when she knew she should, like her nervous system was shot and not sending the right signals by the lack of hurting) as her bones were put back where they belonged, ribs supported by wraps of ripped cloth.

"Uh, that's the best I could do—I don't really know much about this kind of stuff…you might wanna see a medic and get a second opinion…" murmured through her blinking, dazed mind—the numbness still tingling through her, but wearing off just a little enough for her to feel the set aches, less potent now, not so much pains, just weak throbs.

Dragging her gaze to her demon, Hinata locked eyes with worried, defensive gold—blinking rapidly upon gleaning Tsumibitoko's now torn t-shirt. Where the demons shirt was once tied in a knot below her bosom it had obviously been unraveled and ripped to be used as Hinata's sling and bandages. Torn and ragged, the black slogan on white cotton was missing a line, leaving in a nonsense print; but bunched in the middle where it had been tied. Almost like a crop-top, but just a glimpse of smooth curves could be seen of a (Hinata flushed in embarrassment) black bra peeking out beneath the ripped material. The demon girl had obviously been rushing and in a hurry.

Three thoughts trailed through the Hyuuga heiresses mind. _Huh, so, she didn't use my jacket like I thought _and _She really has no shame _and _She cares more than she lets on, being all worried like that and ruining the shirt she liked to sort out my injuries._

Warmth suffused Hinata's chest—sure it was a _t-shirt_ she was trumping in importance, but it was still a step up—and she managed a weak, wan smile. A sigh of relief rewarded her, a small fond smirk tweaking her demons lips—before she jerked back with a disgusted frown and shot to her feet from the crouch by Hinata's head. As the brunette turned from the Hyuuga girl's line of vision Hinata let out a faltering sigh to herself, smile turning downwards in disappointment. _Dang. Thought I'd made some progress. Of course not, it's too soon for me to hope._

She lolled her head to the side Tsumibitoko hadn't disappeared, staring despondently at the blue sky (_like Naruto-kun's eyes, though not half as bright and vibrant_, a small tender smile slowly returned to her features, warmth blossoming and filling her torso with the love she'd grown so addicted too, yet never getting old with its bittersweet one-sided ache) before pulling herself to her feet, trying to shake out the numbness without rattling her slung arm and wrapped ribs.

Hinata cocked her head, refusing to feel down from the almost-lack of progress, and smiled softly in thanks at her demon—who stood partly turned away from her with arms crossed and that deep-in-thought frown on her face, the thumb of her right hand rubbing her lower lip.

"Th-Thank-you," the heiress murmured sincerely.

Tsumibitoko just shot her an incredulous 'are you kidding me?' look. "I _put_ you in that state dipshit. You shouldn't be thanking me."

"'Your welcome' w-would be a n-nice way to make up f-for it then, wouldn't it?" Hinata rejoined quietly, a slightly amused, kind tone to her words—unaffected by the truth and determined not to be.

"Hey! That sounded like—…Who the fuck _said_ I was going to apologize?-!" Tsumibitoko bristled.

"N-No one. I n-never s-said you h-had to a-apologize. If i-it sounded l-like that, I'm s-sorry."

"_Why the fuck are _**_you_**_ apologizing_?-!"

Hinata was unexpectedly enjoying this. It was rather entertaining.

Her demon just seemed to literally vibrate on the spot with anger, hands fisted by her sides.

"Whatever." She spat viciously, Hinata just leaning back a bit and swallowing—still affected by the ache that came with being treated that way by her bond. It hurt whether she wanted it to or not. She barely knew how to act in a way that wouldn't incite such a response, it was…confusing, hurtful and frustrating. "I really couldn't give a toss right now." A hand shoved through flyaway, tied back earthen locks as the demon turned and began to move away, slim ponytail whipping like a smooth rope behind her. "I've gotta go, you've filled my quota. I have better places to be now. See you tomorrow—same time, same place. And I'll have questions."

Then she disappeared, what sounded somehow akin to a threat hanging in the air, like smoke on the wind. Hinata didn't even have time to protest or say goodbye.

Puffing out a disgruntled sigh and brow crinkling slightly in disapproval (not even realizing she was doing as such), the Hyuuga girl shifted—testing the quality that her injuries were fixed with.

She hung her head a little, black tendrils of inky hair slipping over her shoulders. She felt empty now Tsumibitoko was gone. It was almost unbearable.

Hinata kicked the ground petulantly, "Damn meanie demon." She muttered, before gasping and clapping her free hand over her mouth, glancing around like she was expecting her father to jump out of the bushes, point at her in his usual imperious fashion, and crow a triumphant '_ah-ha_! Disgracing the clan with such foul mouth-ery—such a disregard for Hyuuga decorum with childishness and…_personality_!*Insert sneer*

Hinata wouldn't be surprised if he snuck around after her, tip-toeing along like some bad cartoon baddie and waiting for such an opportunity.

She giggled, covering her mouth and eyes squinted shut, at the idea of _her father_, Hiashi Hyuuga, _sneaking_ of all 'dishonorable' things. It was preposterously amusing—especially the thought of him bothering to waste his time on _her_!

The heiress's laughter faded, and she rubbed at the missing spot in her chest. She sighed. The emptiness Tsumibitoko's absence invoked sure was persistent. Hinata suspected it was something she'd have to get used to.

Sighing one last time, she glanced in the direction her demon had disappeared—_I still don't have a name to put to that face_—and hurried out the training ground, trudging to the hospital, making sure to avoid the bustling main-streets and markets. She stuck to the back-roads, slipping among the shadows of the homey, ram-shackle buildings that were Konoha's trademark.

After brushing off concerns and stuttering her way through excuses Hinata quickly assured the medics it was a training related injury—that she'd tried to channel chakra to add force to her punch and screwed up a little. The chakra reaction had thrown her back into a tree, cracking her ribs and gaining cuts and bruises, shattered her arm from all the chaotically dispelled energy. She was really getting good at this lying thing. It made her feel ill. They were only worried about her—it had been almost sweet, the way they flustered about her with concerned faces. Yet, she'd needed to lie to them. Again.

Hinata was lucky really. Quickly being healed up, having to do arm and breathing exercises—there was a sudden commotion of panic from the emergency room. A botched ANBU mission. It was horrific and bloody, two going into violent cardiac arrest, and Hinata ended up holding a cat-masked woman—offering comfort and a warm body (as she knew that was sometimes all that you could take, all that was needed)—as the woman rocked back and forth in a ball, crying on the cold infirmary tiles behind delicately painted white porcelain. It must've been something _awful_, for such stoic people to collapse so dramatically—her teammate's half dead, her mission failed, and Hinata managed to catch snippets of the jobs actual contents through the tears, it had made her pale with heartache and horror. But it served as good enough distraction so that no medic had a chance to think, let alone ask, where the Hyuuga heiress found someone to patch her up before finding her way to the hospital.

Hinata finally, reluctantly, handed the ANBU woman—who'd eventually fallen asleep from fatigue, emotional stress and chakra exhaustion in her arms, tears soaking from beneath a china façade into a torn and bloodied Konoha vest—over to a subdued, grateful, and tight-faced medic. Hinata had staggered back to the Hyuuga compound in a state of grief and shock, her jacket smeared with the iron, throat-clenching scent of blood. She was just glad (somewhere that wasn't recovering from shock) that she made it to her room without a branch member hurrying to fetch her for her father.

Her mind flashed back to the grief-stricken ANBU woman, rocking and shaking feebly in her arms with some sort of repressed memory, eyes glinting from beneath porcelain and locked tearfully on her brothers-in-all-but-blood as they were carted away amid shouts and beeping machinery. No doubt to end up in the morgue anyhow.

(Despite herself, Hinata saw—in a gut-wrenching vision of a desperately bleak future—her own eyes beneath that mask. She saw her _own_ boys on those gurneys, wheeled away to face the shinigami, their blood staining the floor. Shino. Kiba. Akamaru.

_Hospitals always remind her of death and the _**_possibility_**_ of death._

But no. Those weren't her eyes and those weren't her teammates. The fearful paranoia-fueled flash receded and reality seeped in and all Hinata saw was a broken woman and two equally broken men. Only in different ways.)

_No doubt more comrades to add to the memorial stone. More gone from the Konoha ninja family. More brothers and sisters in arms to grieve for._

And suddenly, all she could see was those cold, hating golden irises—hiding all that she felt she may never know.

Hinata softly closed her bedroom door behind her, paused, then slid down it, inky hair trailing above her while lilac eyes resolutely held off tears. Her bedroom contrasted sharply with the emergency room (of what felt like moments before)—all flashing red beeping, shouting, shattered ANBU masks, the horror roaring in her ears and clinical tiles. This was silent, the hospital a bare echo through her head in the quiet of the Hyuuga Compound. Like a grave.

The emptiness still sat like a cold rock at her core.

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**_THE NEXT MORNING_**

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_**Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Hyuuga Clan Compound, Main Branch Wing, Heiress Hinata Hyuuga's sleeping quarters**_

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Hinata woke with an idea.

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_"You still haven't told me your name. We made a deal. Question for question."_

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**AN: **This chapters shorter than the others, but it took _so, damn, _**_long_** to write that I'm personally preening for actually finishing the fucker. Abrupt ending, maybe, but I'm totally not to blame. It's the distracting voices in my head telling me to write other stuff and procrastinate. *shakes fist righteously* Damnnnn theeeeeem…!


	4. my head is bloody, but unbowed

**AN:** Hmm…so…some serious work on their relationship in this chappie…see what you think. Haven't written any TBTTU in a while, wanted to expand on the characters a bit…tell me if I did a good job?

**Disclaimer:** Couldn't own Naruto if I tried. 'Sall Masashi Kishimoto's, though I do own Tsumibitoko no Youkai, Masao Tanaka and a few others that may or may not appear later on in the grand scheme. Who the frick knows, with my runaway brain. So keep your grubby mits off.

**Little something's I listened to while writing this: **Saturdays by Holly Brook, Voodoo Child by Jimi Hendrix, Frozen Oceans by Shiny Toy Guns, Haunted by Holly Brook, Praan by Garry Schyman/Palbasha Siddique, Phenomenon by Thousand Foot Crutch, High and Low by Holly Brook, Into the Fire by Thirteen Senses.

**Also, I would like to throw a big shout out to 'Oliver', an anonymous reviewer and my first for this story. Thank-you for your wonderful, constructive review that gave me something to go on and told me what you specifically liked about my story, it was seriously appreciated. The pleasure and pride you gave me with those few words is what's bringing this chapter out sooner than I thought it would. This chapter's dedicated to you my anonymous friend! Wish you had an account! *Big, big hugs***

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**These Binds that Tie Us **_**or**_** Shatter the Preconceptions**  
{Chapter Four: My Head Is Bloody, But Unbowed}  
_arc I : hand on the gate_

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_**PRESENT DAY (THREE WEEKS LATER)**_

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_**Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Training Ground 14—abandoned.**_

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"In the fell clutch of circumstance  
I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
Under the bludgeoning's of chance  
**My head is bloody, but unbowed**."

—_William Ernest Henley, Invictus_

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Hinata uncharacteristically cursed the mission that had taken her out of Konoha for three weeks.

It felt like the world had been working against giving her a break, and considering the flat-out mess she'd been, torn away from her demon, she felt a little entitled to some melodrama. Kiba-kun, Shino-kun and Kurenai-sensei had all noticed—commented on her dazed, zoning-out, klutzy state with some concern—as they helped some builder move his business from one village to another.

Hinata had a bruised toe from where she'd been biting her lip, lost in thought and clutching a sack of bricks to her chest with hair tied back scruffily in a bandanna, jacket discarded for just her netted chainmail shirt, generally dirty and sweaty (she'd had to do light work because of her 'training injuries', so she'd been saddled with the light-for-a-ninja work till she was better, but now they were practically gone with the application of healing each day), when Akamaru had whined worriedly and nudged his cold wet nose against her calf, making her squeak and drop the sack of bricks. It had hurt, but it'd been the shock more than anything that had sent her heart thundering and cheeks flustered. Hinata felt a bit embarrassed by her poor performance on the mission, but more pressing things were on her mind at that specific moment.

She wasn't that far from the training ground—feeling a twinge of sick irritation at her father, who had once more called her into his quarters before she could escape to berate her on her general failings and how a noble husband of his and the Hyuuga councils choice would make up for her shortcomings in flowery, manipulative language that tried to hide his cold, blunt pressuring—when a brown and gold and multi-coloured and scarlet blur slammed into her front, suddenly appearing form the undergrowth before her like a rapidly blooming flower.

Warm arms crushed her to an equally heated torso, a face buried into her neck and shoulder as she was squeezed to within an inch of her life in the desperate, welcomed grip. Hinata relished in the euphoric rush of relief and pure belonging as she hugged back with equally ferocity, burying her flushed and teary face in brunette strands as her demon trembled.

Hardly the welcoming she'd been expecting, but appreciated greatly none the less. It was nice to see someone so happy to see her, who held her like she was precious and needed. Hinata crushed her face into all that rough hair—coarse like grass and ragged like torn autumn leaves but smooth like the worn bark of an ancient tree—and sucked in the scent of her demon—warm and rich with earth and smoky like charred wood and sweet like nectar—feeling every inch of tension and distracted fumbling seep from her muscles and mind. She felt home and whole once again. This dependence was almost disturbing, but it had such wonderful perks Hinata wasn't sure she'd let it go if given the option.

She wanted to see those golden eyes open and bright with emotion towards her, wanted to be able to crack her demons cold exterior, to be strong and necessary to the Youkai's existence, like a sister and a best friend. It was probably the most potent and selfish desire she'd had in a long time, aside from her bright love for Naruto-kun that laced her each waking and sleeping moment, common and familiar in her everyday routine but far from mundane. This was like being refreshed, like she was a part of this demons soul, like rediscovering a mysterious fragment of her that had been missing—a part that compensated for all she lacked, even as she returned the favour—they were vital to each other within just minutes of meeting thanks to the seal twining over her hands and wrist and fingers, hidden by her glove.

"Where did you go?" The demon girl asked, her voice raspy and weak; vulnerable and frightened in a way that made Hinata's heart ache as it was muffled by her shoulder.

"I had a m-mission," the Hyuuga heiress murmured, taking solace from the glowing warmth of relief in her stomach as those arms tightened around her. Everything—the scent, the feel, the warmth, the sound of her demons voice—it was all a balm to her jagged nerves. She'd been twisted and completely out of it for the past two weeks, like was like having the fog lifted, blown away to reveal a bright sunny morning.

"I-I'm so sorry I d-didn't tell you, I didn't h-have the chance." Hinata's voice was soft, stroking a pale hand very tentatively over the back of her demons head, waiting for the moment she'd be shoved away and snarled at. She wasn't pushed off, so she gently and carefully threaded her fingers through the wild strands and stroked, slow and soothing. It felt like a mother calming their child after a particularly nasty nightmare.

"Don't leave again." It was an order, slightly tempered by the waver as her demons voice broke—arms crushing her tighter, nose nudging at her neck and taking in her scent and skin and presence like an addict. "It hurt."

Hinata felt her heartstrings pull sharp and tight. "I'm s-sorry," she murmured, voice thick with remorse and tears that glistened in her light eyes. "I w-wouldn't have l-left if I had a choice, I pr-promise."

This was true, Kiba-kun had been eager to get out of the village with his team on a C-class mission, said it was like old times—and Shino-kun had been after a particular species of butterfly that only occurred in that area for his collection for a while. She'd essentially been pressured, even if they hadn't done it on purpose, feeling guilty she might be holding her teammates back from something they wanted to do. Hinata hadn't seen Shino-kun like that often before—all pushing up his sunglasses as they glinted, a palpable aura of his brand of hunt-hungry excitement around his stoic form, ready to track down the butterfly—she hadn't wanted to do anything to take that away from him. Even if it had caused both her and her demon pain.

A breathless knife flickered across her lungs and heart, cradling her demon close—excuses, excuses. What had her demon said those weeks ago, after all?

_"I couldn't've resisted the first time I heard your voice any more than I could've…I don't know, played with lightening? That fits. It's just…an impossible lure. Your voice, your scent, your smile, your face, your taste—it's a physical pain to not be sitting next to you right now. Like a fucking puppy following around its master. And since I'm the first bond, I'm tied in ways I'm loathe too. It'll kill me to leave, almost literally."_

Hinata felt her stomach roll darkly, twisting, face paling. _And I did just that._

"A-Are y-y-you hurt?" She stuttered, her tongue numb with panic, holding her demon tighter. "Y-Y-Y-You said i-i-it'd-d hurt y-y-you if-f I le-l-l-le—" Hinata swallowed; fear thick in her mouth and tight around her lungs, teeth gritting together, chest vaporizing with the worry and fright.

"I-I'm…" her demon gave a heavy sigh, weighty with exhaustion, "I'm…fine. Just…tired. Hurts. Missed you." She nuzzled closer and gave a blissfully comfortable sigh, still tucked tight into Hinata like a puppy dog, under her chin. Hinata felt a stab of panic. The odd behaviour—she said it hurt—she had to be in so much pain to be actually acting like this—

Hinata pulled back abruptly, holding her demon by her upper arms and choking in the horror that wanted to curdle her stomach as her demon whimpered and slumped in her hold, trying to squirm towards her once more.

Dark stains blackened beneath her demons eyes—once forge-bright now dulled like cooled metal, flat and lifeless discs—her cheeks were sallow and slightly hollowed with a sickness that was all emotional, she generally looked half-dead. Hinata let out a broken sob when she saw the intricate seal on her demons hand, feeling her knees shake slightly as her own seal reacted violently to her Youkai's suffering. It was inflamed and red, scrubbed scarlet and puffy with what looked like infection. The demon girls hand was limp and bony like the life had been sucked from it. Her veins leading to the seal were bulging and purple and green like they were poisoned, throbbing slightly, trailing up her arm in thick weaves like it had slowly been infecting her, climbing to her body in Hinata's absence. The whole thing looked agonizing and sore and wretched. Hinata, gasping softly for breath, reached out a trembling hand, cool fingertips just brushing a pulsing venomous vein. Her demon winced even as she tried to move closer to the cleansing touch.

"D-Did I d-d-d-o this? I—…" Hinata breathed in dismay, barely able to find the air in her lungs to speak, eyes wide.

"Distance," her demon slurred slightly. "Too much. Seal got bitchy. Hurts so bad." Then her demon let out a raw, dry, sob, head lolling back like she didn't have the strength to support it, her voice becoming a raspy slur. "Why'd you leave me?"

"I-I-I—" Hinata felt tears stream down her face as her hands shook, trying to find the energy in her muscles (that hadn't been sapped away by the fear and horror and guilt) to hold her sagging demon upright. "I-I-I'm s-s-s-sor—" she sobbed, the remorse suffocating her into a panic, "I'm so s-s-sorry, I d-d-didn't—"

"S'fine. Shut up." Her demon mumbled, drooping against Hinata with a deep sigh. "Jus' stay for a lil'…'T'll go 'way soon 'Nata…"

Hinata felt her breath hitch with her heart, warmth tightening in her chest as she cradled the half-asleep demon closer; it was a beautifully bright feeling, careful and fragile but potent and strong. Like her child had called her 'mom'.

"I-I'm not going a-anywhere," she whispered softly, fiercely, feeling the demons breathing even into the deep, tickling susurrus of sleep against her neck. The guilt and pain continued to simmer in her stomach. Hinata knew what a breach of ninja code and a leap of trust that was, for anyone trained to willingly succumb to exhaustion within the presence of someone potentially dangerous—particularly considering her and Hinata's past. She felt guilty for leaving, for inflicting this upon her bond, so the best course of action Hinata could see was making it up to her demon. She'd promised herself, no matter what, that she'd save her Youkai from herself and her fears, after all.

Hinata held her demon closer as she slumped against her chest, trying to hold them both up as she strained her hands for the seals—a familiar tightening ripple of chakra around them, trying to make it unobtrusive and unthreatening as it skated over her demon girl (even unconscious, trained shinobi could have adverse reactions to feeling someone's chakra expel in a jutsu so close, it was an instinctual 'I'm being attacked in my sleep!' reaction) warping in a pocket of tingling blue, feeling it ebb and relax into the surroundings as Hinata sat in the appearing field that was their designated 'usual spot'. She let out a light sigh of relief that her demon simply shifted in discomfort and agitation at the Body Flicker Jutsu, curling tighter into Hinata's lap. She must've been in a really deep sleep.

Hinata clutched at her demons knitted multicolour-striped cardigan—it was baggy and loose over her dark red t-shirt with 'You are mentally unprepared to be exposed to my degree of perversion' scrawled on it. They looked slept in, rumpled, like she simply hadn't had the strength to change them. Hinata's arrival and the demon girls resulting outburst of energy for glompage had probably taken a lot out of her, the seal on her arm constricting and twisting and slowly poisoning, sapping her energy. She seemed satisfied now though, tucked into Hinata's lap like a cat, sleeping peacefully, dead to the world, for what looked like the first time in weeks.

Hinata tried not the cry a little as she glared at the seal she cradled in her hands—trying to be gentle and soothing, but touching as much skin as possible, _contact had to help right?_—stroking careful, cool fingers over the more painful looking throbbing ridges, the engorged and punishing veins, under that smooth, sun-kissed skin. The seal was killing her, the seal had been _killing_ the Youkai it had forced itself upon, all because Hinata had left, while she'd felt no more than emotional turmoil and a dark disconnection to the world.

Hinata let out a strangled noise, a tear streaking down her pale cheek, biting onto the thick fabric of her fingerless glove and yanking it off, splaying her own black-entwined fingers carefully between her demons, locking their hands together carefully. The midnight whorls and seals and dotted circles seemed to just swirl and fit together across tanned and pale skin, merging like ink running over skin, faultless and connected. Hinata felt a burst of pure belonging as their skin seemed to fuse together, heat trailing up her bones and filling her chest with that addictive love and belonging and _fitting_, two souls just clicking and slotting into place softly, a white glow rising from their seals, blinding and the purest thing she'd ever seen.

Hinata panted slightly for breath, squeezing her hand tighter even as she felt the energy in her muscles being sapped—given and taken like the tide, a recycling process, ebbing and flowing, astonishingly like the bond her Youkai seemed to have with the earth—tear streaks from before staining Hinata's pale cheeks as her demon let out a choked moaned and writhed slightly with a wheezing noise. Her uncontaminated hand clenching a white-knuckled fist in Hinata's jumper, the sickened veins in her arms shifting.

Hinata tried to whisper comforting words, pressing her forehead to the demons, running her fingers through wild and snarled brown hair, trying not to snag painfully on her ponytail or the knots. She kept her voice soft and soothing, stroking gently, hand refusing to let go of her demons even if she tried to tug away, because those nasty veins were retreating sluggishly from her forearm. "You're okay, you're all right, it's going away, the pain's going away, I'm here, I'm not leaving, ever again—breathe…breathe…you're sleeping…a nice…deep…sleep…breathing…in…and out…niiiiice and slow…deep…and soft…you're dreaming…calm and relaxing…" her voice was a gentle hum as she smiled softly, stroking fingers through shaggy fur-like hair.

Hinata didn't keep track of how long they were like that—even as muscles began to cramp and tire in her back and arms, even as her legs turned numb from her demons weight, even as her voice became a little rough from overuse and her chakra dipped slightly from depletion, the sun rising bit by bit in the sky. She pushed chakra to circulate her numbing and cramping muscles, loosening them up and keep them fresh, soothing her throat. It was a technique she'd picked up on stake-outs, to stop your body from tiring in case a fight broke out, to keep the weapon that was her body honed and sharp and ready for use. It was good she had such excellent precise chakra control, else she'd damage her muscles and internal organs with the soft charges of energy.

Soon enough, her demon was sleeping peacefully, face slack and body a dead weight, breath soft and deep. Hinata gently pried their hands apart, palms clammy with sweat as they both were from prolonged contact. The Youkai girl's skin was once more smooth and browned, the seal dormant and satisfied as it twirled immovably over time-worn fingers and wrist.

At first, to Hinata, it had looked like the precious thing that tied her and her demon together, that kept them connected, now it looked an awful lot like jailers chains—and that didn't sit right with her, even if there was nothing to do about it.

She sighed gently, deciding to focus more on the soft light feelings of happiness, unfurling like sun-warmed wings in her chest, as she scratched her demons scalp absentmindedly. She blinked at a soft, cute rumbling sound, looking down from the blue sky (she often got distracted by it since it looked so much like Naruto-kun's eyes, blushing slightly at the thought), blinking down at her Youkai. She looked suspiciously cat-like, a small satisfied neko-kawaii smile curving her lips with eyes arched closed as she curled up in Hinata's lap, fast asleep. The Hyuuga heiress tentatively scratched again. Another little rumbling noise.

Hinata tried not to giggle too loud, eyes wide and delighted, when she realized her Youkai was…_purring_. Oh, that was too precious.

She flushed and bit her lip, tentatively shifting her hand behind the demons ear—pausing a moment in uncertainty—before scratching gently like one would a cat. Elfin ears twitched and the Youkai in her lap practically turned to vibrating goo beneath her fingers.

Hinata muffled her laughter till her ribs ached, eyes watering and squinted, her small smile goofy as her cheeks turned cherry red, listing to the side in her giggles as she scratched behind the Youkai's ear. Her demons tongue actually lolled out slightly, looking euphoric as she slept.

Hinata giggled till she thought her stomach would burst, wiping tears from her eyes and chuckling, smiling as she bit her lip again as more unexpectedly devious (and admittedly potentially adorable) thoughts popped up. She pressed her lips together, trying not to succumb to her humour once more, and scratched under the demon girl's chin and along under her jaw bone.

The Youkai stretched her chin up higher, arching and whining softly, purring heavily as she nudged further into Hinata's hand, nuzzling endearingly—curled up and generally looking pretty damn pleased. Hinata giggled slightly scratching under the Youkai's chin for a bit as she purred. She'd been right. It was adorable.

The Hyuuga heiress giggled, her other hand rubbing the demons stomach like one would a cat. The Youkai girl stretched out, arms over her head as she purred deeply, unbothered by her body lolling from side to side thanks to Hinata's rubbing her stomach with both hands now. The heiress tried not to laugh too much, but it was so cute. Her demon let out a satisfied sigh, licking the back of her hand drowsily like a cat, still asleep as she purred, looking blissful.

Hinata was glad, this was the least she could do—watching all those tense lines in the Youkai's face relax like they'd never been there, all those years before now that put them there fading away. The demoness looked content, happy and peaceful like a cat basking in the sun on a windowsill. It brought happiness to Hinata, that she could put that there.

It wasn't long before content golden eyes cracked open; sun-dipped lashes fluttering as she squinted. Hinata froze guiltily in her scratching her demons ribs, blushing fiercely. Admittedly, it had probably been a bit invasive and presumptuous, just because the Youkai had curled up on her didn't quite give her right to go open season on bringing out the cute kitty-cat in her. Hinata bit her lip, face a tomato as she slowly drew her hands back, realizing she was probably about to have her head bitten off figuratively. And maybe literally. Well, even if she hadn't quite lived her short life to its fullest, there had been its high points—and these last few moments had been especially informative and entertaining.

She twisted her hands nervously together, then began prodding her forefingers against one another—a childish habit she returned to occasionally, unable to help it even if it earned her a disapproving and maybe a little disgusted look from her father—blushing as she fiddled and fidgeted, eyes glued to the ground.

"U-U-U-Uhm…a-anoo…I-I—"

There was the rustle of crushed grass, weight shifting, then "…You di'n't get my back," the sleepy mumble sounded slightly muffled, and Hinata blinked, peeking up warily. Her demon was on her stomach, arms crossed and face half-buried in them, actually giving a smirk of drowsy amusement, eyebrows raised. Apparently she'd seen how much Hinata had enjoyed petting her like a cute kitty, and was deigning to indulge her instead of snapping and snarling in righteous fury. _If she'd seen how adorable it was to watch a great and mighty demon—or anything humanoid—purr and act like that, she'd understand too_, Hinata thought almost petulantly, pouting even as the corner of her lips wanted to twitch into a pleasantly surprised smile.

Still, her hand moved out virtually without consent, stroking down the Youkai's spine and pressing her lips together in an attempt to not laugh brightly when her demon girl's eyes glazed over and she practically drooled, arching into the touch.

"Jus' this once," the demoness attempted to sound stern, but it seemed more dazed and distracted. "I'm not some housebroken pe_eeeet_—oh sweet merciful chaos gods, do that thing again!" Hinata giggled unabashedly at the puppy-dog-eager demand, her often shy countenance bright happy, rubbing the Youkai's upper spine between her shoulder blades and stroking down like how she would Akamaru. The puddle-of-purring-demonic-goo scenario was closing in again.

Hinata smiled gently, tucking a soft inky strand behind her ear and generally allowing herself to feel happy and accepted again. A warm breeze played with her hair, sun dusting flower petals and grass and leaves in balmy afternoon rays, heating her hair to a soft warmth against her scalp. The demon's gently rumbling weight was partly on her lap, Hinata's pale hand tangling with long threads of milk chocolate and gliding over knitted multicolour.

She looked tentatively down at lazy gold eyes that were watching tanned fingers fiddling with strands of grass, once more bright eyes heavy-lidded as her demon purred onto her forearm, the cardigan sleeve slipped down over skin from where they'd been pushed up.

"…Wh-What's…what's y-your," Hinata swallowed, gathered her courage, "…name?" She finally whispered, biting her lip, canine sinking deep into soft skin as she strained against the reflex to prod her fingers together. She had to take advantage of this attitude shift in her demon while she could.

Golden eyes slid to look at her, glazed as the petting continued, yawning slightly, Hinata's pale fingers scratching blissfully behind a pointed ear. "Mmm…Tsumibitoko…" she purred lethargically, lashes fluttering closed as she hummed in a satisfied way.

Hinata's mouth bloomed into a small smile. _Progress._ "Ts-Tsumibitoko…?" Her smile grew, if a bit warily, feeling something warm blossom in her chest like the smile on her face, "…'S-Sinner…chi-child'…it's—"

"Fitting?" Her demo—_Tsumibitoko_ drawled softly, sarcastic and sleepy, not at all offended.

"I w-was g-going to say…ano, u-unique," Hinata whispered shyly, her free hand tugging on a lock of her dark hair, ducking her head.

Tsumibitoko made a slow, thoughtful noise. There was a short silence, the demoness watching the grass and occasional smattering of flowers waft lethargically as her scalp was scratched, then she parted her lips slowly.

"Hey…could I ask you something?"

Hinata cocked her head slightly, stuttering a surprised yes, of course.

"Can I…be…demon…around you?" Tsumibitoko's voice was soft, vulnerable in a way Hinata couldn't pin, tired and a little weak—hopeful! That was the edge of defencelessness. Golden eyes finally fixed on hers, for some reason obviously waiting to be shut down harshly.

"O-Of course," Hinata said immediately, not even hesitating. There was a short silence as bright eyes softened slightly and a relieved sigh parted tanned lips, muscles loosening and purr deepening, like a weight had been lifted. "A-Anoo…" Hinata flushed and fidgeted slightly, "W-What e-exactly did you m-mean…'b-_be_ demon'…?"

There was a deep, amused and exasperated, groan from the Youkai female—her face landing in the grass as her shoulders shook in silent laugher. "Don't agree to things you don't under_stand_, god, you really are something else for a human, you know that? Don't you realize saying yes to things out of the goodness of your heart, without thinking, is how people get conned?" Her tone was entertained yet greatly long-suffering.

Hinata blushed brightly.

Tsumibitoko heaved a great sigh. "I _meant_…well, I've been pretending to be human of a number of millennia. The act is ingrained, it makes it easier to blend in, makes other humans more comfortable. I just…just want…even if I don't deserve, even if I'm not…proper demon…I just want to let go…I want…to be what I am, even if for only a few measly years. Will you grant me this request, Daemon Cantrix?"

Hinata bit her lip softly as the rigidly formal language, as if Tsumibitoko was trying to make up for the weakening of fierce barriers, carding fingers through all that wild hair. "U-Unreservedly…b-but as a…f-friend, and as y-your bond, n-not as…that t-title. B-Be…wh-what makes you c-comfortable."

Another deep, amused and conflicted sigh, and a darkly mumbled, "Really something else…"

Hinata didn't have anything to say to that. She didn't want to break this fragile moment of surprising and unexpected peace.

A few moments later, Tsumibitoko rose. Hinata felt a soft, dark sputtering of disappointment as she let her hands slip away and the half-weight disappeared from her lap. The demoness sat back on her haunches, eyes squinted as they watched the confused Hyuuga heiress. Then she leaned in and sniffed, like an inquisitive cat or dog, snuffling in a tickling way against Hinata's cheek and nose and nuzzling her ear, breath puffing over her skin. Hinata couldn't help the giggle; it was odd but cute and ticklish. Any normal person would jerk back and question such bizarre behaviour, but Hinata was tolerant and patient to a fault (with experience when it came to the Inuzuka Clan), besides, it was cute.

She blinked, laughter abruptly halting in shock when the warm wet lap of a tongue lashed up her cheek, soft and affectionate. Her face exploded in colour, jerking back and almost hyperventilating.

"Wha-wha-wha-wha-_wha_?-!" She squeaked, cupping the licked cheek. Tsumibitoko's nose twitched, head cocking as she blinked.

"What? You said I could be demon." Golden eyes flickered, dimming in uncertainty. "Or were you lying?"

"N-N-No! I w-w-w-wasn't l-l-l-lying at all, buh-buh-but I j-j-just wasn't e-e-e-expecting tha-that…" Hinata flustered, knotting her hands together over and over.

"Oh," Tsumibitoko's gaze lightened and she sniffed, nose twitching again like an animal as she scuffed at her pointed ear. So…this animalistic behaviour was 'demon'. "I was greeting you. It's supposed to be polite, ya know?" She thumbed her nose slightly, glancing up at Hinata and back at the ground repeatedly, shifting nervously. The Hyuuga heiress was strongly reminded of a shy animal or an anxious Naruto-kun. Very much so.

"I know that stuff makes humans uncomfortable but you said I could be demon so I was just being demon, I suppose you telling me I could be what would make me comfortable kinda resulted in an outpouring of suppressed instincts 'cause fuck it man, I really wanna chase that butterfly over there like a spastic dog." Tsumibitoko's eyes were riveted on the fluttering insect as it danced from flower to flower, nose twitching occasionally as she perched on her heels, looking like she was on a straining leash. Hinata tried not to laugh bewilderedly, because this was almost surreal in its rambling quality. She loved it, but it was bizarre.

"G-Go ahead…Ts-Tsumi…bitoko-…san…I-I won't judge," Hinata murmured, looking hopeful. If she did chase the butterfly, it'd be really cute.

Tsumibitoko wavered for split seconds, vibrating as she tried to hold herself back from long curbed instincts, before letting out an actual excited yip and charging on all fours after the butterfly. Hinata watched, blinking dazedly and wondering whether she should laugh delightedly, smack herself to see if this was real, faint, or check herself into a clinic.

_So much like Akamaru_, was all she could dazedly think as she watched Tsumibitoko charge back and forth after the butterfly that was attempting to escape, tongue nearly lolling out as she scampered on all fours. Tsumibitoko slipped at one point and faceplanted the ground with a sharp yelp—Hinata pausing, trying to stop laughing and wondering whether she should provide aid, but then Tsumibitoko was up again and zooming off. It seemed stubborn pride and arrogance took a backseat in the face of this challenging chase in the primal world of demons.

_A demon. I'm watching a demon. Chase a butterfly. Like a puppy,_ Hinata thought once more, hardly able to fully convey the ridiculousness of her past month or so.

The Hyuuga heiress wondered what exactly had spurred this abrupt outburst of suppressed instincts; what had encouraged Tsumibitoko into apparently deciding it was okay to bear this part of her she'd hidden around humans to Hinata. Not that it wasn't a wonderful step forwards. Perhaps it was the whole 'distance makes the heart grow fonder' thing? Hinata decided not to question it, and just sat, watching in bewildered amusement.

It wasn't long before Tsumibitoko was bounding back, bouncing in a sloppy, excited crouch before Hinata's neat, polite kneel. "I caught it, I caught it!" Tsumibitoko was actually flushed, eyes bright with excitement and hair more mussed than usual, her ponytail a streak trailing over her shoulder, cardigan hanging halfway down one arm. She was cupping the butterfly in the hollow of her hands, hidden behind the lattice of her slightly clawed fingers. A bang of hair was caught on her lower lip pulled into an exhilarated grin but ignored, canines sharp and bared in her enthusiasm.

Hinata could imagine and superimpose the fiercely wagging dog tail and perked ears, it was startlingly easy.

The Hyuuga heiress smiled, lips pressed together to contain her bright laughter; Tsumibitoko was hovering, eyes wide with the hope for praise. Such a puppy, even though she'd probably sulk or explode if Hinata said that aloud.

"Ano…g-good job," Hinata smiled, very tentatively patting Tsumibitoko's head and scratching behind her ear. The demon girl said she didn't want to be treated like a housebroken pet, but what else was Hinata supposed to do? Besides, the way she preened at the approval and licked excitedly at Hinata's wrist was too adorable.

"Can I eat it?"

Hinata choked at the excited question. "N-N-No!" She chastised without thinking. Tsumibitoko pouted—good lord this was odd—and scowled, looking down at the madly fluttering insect trapped by her hands. "But I _caught_ it," she grumped.

"N-No," Hinata said softly, gently prying Tsumibitoko's fingers open, touch soft. The pretty butterfly fluttered free. "Ev-Everything deserves chances to l-live and be free…a-acts of k-kindness are r-rewarding t-to the soul," she smiled as the butterfly flittered up and perched on Tsumibitoko's nose, feelers probing her sun-soaked skin gently as golden eyes widened and mouth fell open in the surprised 'o', wings slowly folding open and closed as if in thanks and curiosity, before flittering off, riding invisible waves over the flowers and grass. Hinata's smile widened shyly and she prodded her forefingers together. "See? D-Doesn't th-that f-feel…uhm…nicer?"

Tsumibitoko stared intently at her, before abruptly burrowing into Hinata's soft stomach, arms wrapped around her torso. The Hyuuga heiress had had experience with dog-like people (e.g. Kiba-kun and the Inuzuka clan) so she knew how friendly and touchy-feely they could be, even if the affectionate contact oft times made her blush up a storm. This level of animalistic behaviour was different, but not unexpected for all her experience. Besides, she didn't mind, the contact was comforting and euphoric—it told her that, despite how hard she'd expected it to be, her demon was warming up to her.

Tsumibitoko's voice was muffled slightly by the thick fabric of Hinata's lilac and white jacket. "All I've ever really known is survival of the fittest, the circle of life and nature…it's nice not killing what I catch…I mean, I like animals…we're connected through the earth…" she mumbled, sounding almost embarrassed to reveal this but stubbornly trucking through.

Hinata abruptly understood with the blinding white flash of clarity. Tsumibitoko was relaying these titbits about herself in repayment for 'letting her be demon'. The Hyuuga heiress had seen how she—or maybe it was a demon thing—had problems with being in 'debt' and repaying people, this was a part of that. Hinata felt the warm trickle of fond affection.

She smiled again and carefully stroked a hand through wild brown strands. Hinata struggled for something to say—'you should be proud' would probably make Tsumibitoko insulted by insinuating she wasn't, 'that's special' sounded patronizing and silly, because there were other earth demons, right? "…Th-That…m-must be nice," Hinata bit her lip at the lame words. "M-My t-teammate's a-an I-Inuzuka…h-he has a dog c-called Akamaru, h-he's as m-much a part o-of the t-team as the rest of us…" she offered in a gentle attempt to relate.

Tsumibitoko detached herself from Hinata's front, sitting back criss-cross-apple-sauce and nodding in awkward gratitude. She paused almost thoughtfully, before sticking a hand into the pocket of her ragged cut offs, rummaging in the easy silence. She tugged free a crumpled pack of cigarettes, only a few left rattling around, and a crummy plastic lighter. Tsumibitoko tapped free a cigarette and caught it between her lips, cupping and lighting it with a few sparking clicks. There was an art in the way people smoked, Hinata thought; the practiced, subconscious movements ingrained into habit, the way the cherry reflected in and set golden irises alight, the twirling tuck of the lighter away into a palm, thumb holding it there as tanned fingers on either side of the cigarette pulled it free to let out a smooth sigh of grey mist, the squint of luminous eyes and flutter of light lashes. It was an ugly, dangerous habit, but she found she didn't quite mind it on Tsumibitoko. There was a subconscious grace to it, the way the demon girl found peace and contemplation in the smooth familiarity of the movements, the way she grinned knowingly up through her lashes when she caught Hinata looking, the cigarette caught to the side between her teeth, ash burnt and crumbling at the end as it glowed.

"Did you want one?"

Hinata shook her head fiercely, trying to reject the offer tactfully, "N-No…b-being a ninja…h-has i-it's d-dangers enough…"

Tsumibitoko just shrugged, sighing, licking her lips and scrubbing dishevelled bangs form her eyes. "Fair enough. It's not a habit for everyone, I guess."

"…Wh—" Hinata licked her own lips, the acrid scent of smoke light in the air. "Why did y-you take it up?" She hoped it wasn't too personal or close to home. Tsumibitoko tended to shut down something fierce when it came to things like that. Hinata just wanted to know more about the demon in front of her.

Tsumibitoko shrugged looking down at the cigarette in her fingers, twirling in slightly as she leaned her cheek onto her fist, elbow on her knee. "I don't know. I'd already ruined any chance I had of returning to demon society and seeing open arms. I was at a club, someone offered; I was feeling bitter and 'fuck it all'. Just figured I may as well go the whole nine yards by that point." More information as 'repayment', no doubt.

Hinata bit her lip, trying not to smile, faltering when her pure gaze easily glimpsed the dark flash of something sad in Tsumibitoko's eyes. It punched a breathless fist of pain in the heiress's chest and she sucked in a sharp, silent breath through her nose, eyebrows crinkling. "Wh…You…d-d-demon so-society?" She all but whispered the last two words, not wanting to start a fight but wanting to help and _know_.

Tsumibitoko just shrugged again, her smile light but tight, barricading her face—eyes already guarded and shut down. She fell back on the grass, tucking her free hand behind her head and taking a drag. "Story for another day, my friend," she announced sarcastically, blowing a long stream of smoke into the afternoon air.

Hinata pouted slightly, brow puckering. Dang mysterious demons.

She prodded her fingers together, tucking her knees up under her chin and winding her arms around her calves and squeezing. She had to ask, while she felt she could. "Wh-Wh…Why…" Hinata swallowed. Licked her lips. Sighed. Chewed on her lower lip. Closed her eyes. Sucked in a steadying breath, so deep and slow her lungs protested. "Why d-don't you…h-hate me today?" She whispered, mumbling into her ninja slacks and peeking through her dark bangs like a wary, chastised puppy. Once bitten, twice shy, and Tsumibitoko had proven to be volatile and unpredictable when it came to her temper.

At least she seemed to be winding down from her demon-instinct high.

Tsumibitoko looked at her, golden eyes rolled down and two fingers frozen around her cigarette, laid back as she was, one leg propped up. Her stomach rose and fell softly, wind brushing unruly hair across her forehead. She sighed, biting down on the cigarette hard, then scrunching up her nose in distaste. Tsumibitoko plucked the cigarette from her mouth, thumb wiping across her lower lip. She tapped off the ash into the grass on her left with a finger. Her voice was roughened and weary. "Too tired to hate. Takes up too much energy. Seal missed you too much for me to honestly despise any form of your presence right now. I'm just relieved I'm alive." She smirked slightly and cocked an eyebrow, "I can try again tomorrow if you want?"

Hinata blinked a bit; surprised by the flash-flood of warm affection she felt rushing and filling the insides of her ribcage like a torrent of bright water. She twitched a slow, shy smile and ducked her head. "N-No…I-I r-really like…b-being able to t-talk to you…l-like this…" She twisted her fingers abashedly in the hem of her ninja pants, the toe of one of her sandals rubbing against the dirt and grass, toes scrunching. "Uhm…ano…u-unless…b-being…uhm, h-hating me m-makes you more comfortable…" her voice was soft with acceptance and gloominess.

The Hyuuga heiress blinked when cigarette ash was flicked in her lap. "Man up, woman!" Hinata almost smiled, even as she brushed ash from her knee, at the incongruences in that grumpy snip, the irritated defence against Hinata subtly putting herself down. There was a deep, terse sigh, filled with agitation and confliction. "I don't _know_, all right? Stop…being _you_. You make me confused dammit." Tsumibitoko puffed at her cigarette in a frustrated way, frowning up at the blue ether.

"…I-If…th-that would make you m-more com—"

"Shut up! Just shut up! Stop saying that!" Tsumibitoko had darted into sitting upright, eyes blazing with fury, hands in fists as she leaned to the left and snarled in Hinata's personal space. She looked incensed. "It's _pathetic_ and _submissive_! Don't you have any pride?-! Pisses me off!" Tsumibitoko slammed a fist into the grass, growling and snapping her teeth. "I don't fukin' know what to do about your ridiculous inferiority shit! Do you need gentle pushes or a goddamn kick in the ass?-! Because fuck all, it's stupid and pointless! You're dragging yourself down and holding yourself back! Those Hyuuga cold-ass bastards might've started the cycle, but you're not doing yourself any favours by continuing it! You're letting them _win_!" She bared her teeth viciously again, grinding them together in frustration.

"You're my bond dammit—no matter how much I wish I didn't have one—and I won't stand for this pussyfooting bullshit! I realize you're trying to make me feel better about all this—and it's appreciated all right—but for god's _sakes_, this is a partnership! You're not a _servant_! We _need_ each other! This is _equal_! I see that much now thanks to this fuckery—" she held up her seal in an irate, jerking movement, "—and I see that while bowing and scraping may be what you're used to having to do to maintain some sort of safely coexisting understanding thanks to those ice-cube-jerks, it _won't_ fly. With. Me. _Got it_?" She clipped off her words and glared, upper lip peeled back and trembling in a snarl, before huffing angrily and turning sharply, flopping furiously back down, now on her side with her back facing Hinata. Tsumibitoko propped her head up on her hand, elbow on the grass and sucking furiously at her cigarette, grinding it down between her teeth and muttering a continuous stream of darkly irritated words.

Hinata felt heat stinging and swimming in her eyes, the pressure building, but she wasn't sure if they were good tears or bad tears.

She sniffled, reaching out and gently tugging on Tsumibitoko's sleeve. The Hyuuga heiress was met with slitted golden eyes and an irate slash in place of a mouth glaring slightly over her shoulder, voice cutting and curt like the stab of a kunai, a single word ground out furiously like a whetstone. "What?"

"Uhm…" Hinata had decided they were good tears as she kept her eyes fixed on her lap. "Th-Thank-you…Tsumibitoko-san."

The Youkai girl paused for a few long, long seconds, then she shifted upwards and licked Hinata's cheek affectionately again, the sensation incredibly soft, her voice impassive despite her fond actions. "That's Tsumibitoko—or any horrific and apparently cute shortening you can create—to you, human."

Then she was on her bare and dirty feet, hand tucked in her pocket, cigarette between her lips and hand scuffing up her bangs in an action of deep, vexing thought as she walked away. "Same place, same time, tomorrow." Then she was gone, disappearing, the earth shifting slightly where she'd been.

Hinata felt abruptly and greatly bereft, despite the confused, happy glow around her heart.

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Good grief, I use a lot of commas when I write. Maybe it's just me.  
Shorter chapter this time, only 14 pages! W00t!


	5. learning from the past

**AN:** I know there isn't a lot of, well, combat in this chapter—but the first parts of the training are going to be focused on other parts of the whole 'elemental connection' thing. Don't worry, there shall be fight scenes, 'cause I find them fun as hell to write.

**Disclaimer:** Couldn't own Naruto if I tried. 'Sall Masashi Kishimoto's, though I do own Tsumibitoko and a few others that may or may not appear later on in the grand scheme. Who the frick knows, with my runaway brain.

**Little something's I listened to while writing this: **Kings and Queens by 30 Seconds to Mars, Not Strong Enough by Apocalyptica ft. Brent Smith, All I Need by OneRepublic,

**Thank-you for your kind review Jordan! Don't worry, I'm not about to give up on writing this because there aren't many reviews—it's all for my own pleasure, the fact that some people seem to like it's just an awesome bonus.**

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**These Binds that Tie Us _or_ Shatter the Preconceptions**  
{Chapter Five: Learning From The Past}  
_arc I : hand on the gate_

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_**THE NEXT DAY**_

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_**Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Training Ground 14—abandoned.**_

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Hinata had never seen anything like the way Tsumibitoko fought.

She had an odd starting stance—feet apart, one sliding further forwards than the other, legs braced firmly, arms raising before clenching into position, wrists snapping up, eyes closed and bangs over her face as she breathed, making their very ends flutter slightly, one elbow lower than the other, fingers hanging, thumbs bent over her palms, lower body tight and strong, her upper loose and held fragile. It was almost predatory; somehow sly and misleading, almost lazy, but carefully structured. Then she began to move and Hinata saw that the rest of her taijutsu style was just as different and odd. Short, sharp movements from her arms and hands sent the earth shifting with her, a snap from her wrist, hand flat, sending a slice of earth smashing into a worn-out abandoned dummy that was sagging pitifully from age. A slide from her foot and twist of her ankle, a snap up of both her wrists, raising like strings attached to the earth, lifted a barrier and sent her sliding backwards on a wave from 'danger' and behind safety.

It was rhythm, it was pure harmonization and understanding between muscles and mind and earth, it was smooth and co-ordinated but unpredictable and wild—swirling into a crouch, arms raising and fingers splayed slightly over her head, eyes sharp and unforgiving as she breathed, even and deep and in and out like the earth was breathing with her—the ground shaking and rumbling as it cracked out like ice, shattering up in giant shards around her like a rumbling earthquake—before she swept down, fingertips brushing the ground as she danced in a low circle, shifting with the earth, rising with fingers lifting over her head, bringing the ground up with them behind her like it was magnetized, before slamming down as it arched over her head and she lashed her hands out, the terrain roaring and wind and dirt whipped at her hair and clothes. It was art, a force of nature, it was fascinating and frightening and unnatural (people should be able to do that, _do_ things like that) but entirely _natural_. There was a dance to it, a beat in the way she moved, in the poses, in the twist and sharp shifts and snaps of her limbs. Hinata found it hard to breathe as she watched from the sidelines, having asked for a demonstration since today they were going to start her training. This was the power of a demon.

She wondered if she'd look like that with water by the end of this.

Tsumibitoko shifted her foot and slammed two fists forwards, one high over the other, flicking the top into a sharp, diagonal, cutting motion down without moving her wrist as she twisted her hips, foot sliding forwards, face even as she held an imaginary opponent still by the rock around their 'legs' and smashed a rectangle of stone into them. It was a rapid movement, hardly disenable as separate, deliberate arrangements, flowing like magma, thoughtless and unrelenting like the seasons.

The way she fought…it was strong, unmovable, versatile like the earth but resilient, something that would never go down without a fierce fight. Hinata noticed that Tsumibitoko fought and sparred like her opponent was stronger, smarter, faster and had more experience than her, she didn't seem to ever underestimate her opponent, didn't allow herself to, imaginary or no.

Hinata, observing with her pure vision, tried to deduct all she could from the style—like Tsumibitoko had told her to do.

It was all in the joints, all in the minute arrangements of her ankles or wrists or elbows.

Some in-between movements would be liquid and smooth, like she was boneless, then they'd sharpen into short, choppy snaps—like now, Tsumibitoko was pitting the earth against herself and using it back, turning on her side in the air between two blocks of rock that had shot out at her, loose and easy, as she landed into a crouch, practically sinking into the movement, feet braced far apart, knees bent, hands and head hanging to the earth as the rocks took down a tree or two behind her. It was loose, swaying slightly, before shifting and snapping her arms up on either side, hands as if she was pinching something heavy as they moved slow, then snapping into tight fists, balls of earth slamming upwards to hover in the air. And she was off again, shifting and swaying and stomping and twisting.

Her centre of gravity was low, always, shifting heavy and deep, like a warrior. It was odd for a shinobi, who was used to remaining light on their feet. The style had a kind of gravity to it, a beat; a pulsing power and swept across Tsumibitoko's limbs and made her eyes burn. It was primal and low, stony solemn and watery wraith; it was straining strength, the world's weight at her tanned fingertips. Tsumibitoko swept deep again, foot sliding way out, supported on just one tucked under her, the other straight out close to the ground, arms whipping upwards with the movement, hands in fists, one straight out following the line of her leg, the other snapped over her head, elbow bent, forearm following the line she was on. Roaring dragons of earth leapt from the ground on either side of her, exploding into the ground her opponent would have stood on.

There was nothing soft or traditionally elegant about it, it was an art hewn in the midst of war, made simply for practicality and dealing destruction, no unnecessary flourishes to smooth away the rough edges and make it look pretty to watch, it was functional and strong, like a warrior practicing kata's. There was a tight elegance to the way she fought, slow deliberate movements lashing into sharp twists of hand or feet or shifts of weight that changed the course of the fight, a detail and story to every sweeping movement that found a place in a tight up-drawn stance that moved the earth this way and broke it that. Hinata wondered if Gai-sensei had ever seen anything like it.

Tsumibitoko breathed, never letting herself pant, always retaining the calm in and out of air that left Hinata feeling serene and in control, settling slowly back into her stance; arms stiff like they were grabbing something, one low, one higher, her legs sturdy.

She breathed, eyes closed, for a few moments, sweat trickling down her temple, then she abruptly relaxed, drawing back into a normal standing position, arms by her sides. Hinata smiled as Tsumibitoko made an odd movement, feet neatly together, a fist in her slanted hand before her as she bowed slightly, facing the training ground. It almost seemed offbeat on her, too obedient and respectful.

Then she turned, a sweaty smirk on her face, eyes bright and serene from the workout, the simple movement with earth she hadn't done in too long. "Well?" Tsumibitoko jogged over, and Hinata couldn't help seeing how she moved like her fighting style, low and deliberate, calm and confident. "What's your judgement, oh great and mighty demon singer?" Tsumibitoko swept into a jaunty bow, deep and sarcastic.

Hinata flushed bright, "Uhm…i-it's…r-really cool…uhm…"

Her face fell flat, "That's it?"

"N-No! Ah…!" Hinata fumbled with her fingers, "A-Ano, y-your centre of g-gravity's really low, a-and y-your st-style's all i-in the j-joints…a-and! I-It was, uhm, m-made m-more for functionality and m-mass destruction a-and u-utilization o-of your surroundings… th-than…uhm…g-getting in cl-close and d-disabling your opponent…y-you do it more f-from a distance…w-with your, ano, earth…i-it's…n-nothing like sh-shinobi…uhm, taijutsu arts…" She peeked up at Tsumibitoko, blushing in pleasure at the approval on her face. It was bright, that much pride in someone's expression, even as the demon girl tried to bank it.

"Nice spotting, pure eyes," she smirked, canine snagging on her lower lip, flopping down beside where Hinata was kneeling, then flopping backwards, arms tucked up behind her head as she caught her breath. Tsumibitoko definitely moved like her style, nothing flourishing or elegant at all; rough and moving with instinct. Not polite or modest or asking for any kind of approval, just _being_ without questioning herself or second guessing, each movement a fight, a kata. There was confidence there, not arrogance, though Tsumibitoko displayed that bluntly often enough. She stood like someone with faith in their abilities; self-assured, cool and laidback. It was a calm confidence. She didn't shove in your face and shout for the world to hear like Naruto-kun's boisterous, blinding charisma—she didn't feel the need too, didn't care enough to, it was a confidence that came with a smugly mysterious smirk and a cocked eyebrow that showed she knew what she could do and didn't give a shit what your opinion was. It had no doubt taken centuries to refine. Hinata really hoped she'd move like that by the end of this. That she could move without asking for approval in each line of her body, that she could be unapologetic in the way she stood and dared you to judge.

"Water demons—which is your deal—move much smoother than my style. It very flexible and elegant, dangerous and sharp, like ice and melt. A water demon can twist and weave and bend their way through a battlefield, a tsunami in their wake. You have a lot more fiddly movements though, a lot more gestures needed to keep water alive and fighting, 'cause water is a lot more difficult that earth. You have to keep your eye on it and make sure you don't lose your focus on it, 'cause unlike earth it'll splash to the floor and you'll lose it, if your precision and manipulation is off just a few inches. Get it? It won't stand _for_ you, you control every inch of it, because it doesn't grow and change and have a mind of its own like earth, it'll slip through your fingers without you controlling it properly, it'll lose the life you gave it to face your enemies. Water always needs something to control it, influence it, else it's nothing, just liquid that doesn't move or grow or change."

She swept out an arm and pointed at the sky, "It needs the moon to bring in and bring out the tide, it needs the moon and storms and life forms and wind for waves, it needs earthquakes and tectonic plates for tsunamis, and it needs temperature to determine its state. Nothing water ever does is on its own, always a puppet on a string." Her eyes slid to Hinata, voice lowering slightly. "You may relate to that." Hinata bit her lip, knowing no offence was meant by the statement, just trying to get her to understand and find likeness in her element the way she needed to. "But that's why water demons—and, water Demon Singers—are so precious to water," Hinata looked up, "Because you give it the life it lacks, you connect with it and it draws from you. It's still just plain old water splashing to the ground without you there, arms twisting and keeping it alive, but it still _gains_ something in those few moments it doesn't have otherwise. Do you…get what I'm saying?"

Hinata nodded hesitantly, "M-My style…is a l-lot more c-complicated th-than yours…b-because w-water takes a l-lot more c-concentration t-to mould and m-move…b-because originally…i-it's lifeless…?"

Tsumibitoko smirked again, that approval there once more. "You catch onto this way faster than other waterino's. I've seen them fumble for understanding for hours before their teacher finally managed to get them to understand."

Hinata blushed again and looked down at her hands fiddling with the hem of her jacket, lips pressed into a hidden smile. "Th-Thank-you…"

This way of teaching was different than anything she'd experienced. For starters, it was a demon acting as her tutor, and there was always a faint tension hovering in the air, like the building before a storm. Then there was the fact that she'd only ever been taught by her father, Iruka-sensei and Kurenai-sensei before. Her father had been cold. Cruel and unforgiving as he spat his icy distain or cold indifference upon her childish head, all his disappointment and disgust as she sat at his feet, panting and bleeding and clutching her burst tenketsu as the pain surged. Iruka-sensei had been fierce, strict but firm and kind, fair and open but with a mighty temper. His lessons had been mentally-draining, droning and boring to the minds of small children, especially when Hinata's attention was always sapped away with peeking shyly at boisterous, sunny Naruto-kun. Then there was Kurenai. She was like the mother Hinata had only vague recollections of. An icy beauty with red eyes and pale skin, with a warm smile and encouraging words always waiting on her lips. She was support; there was a sense of home when thinking of Kurenai-sensei. But that had conflicted with their teacher-student relationship. Kurenai had had a soft spot for Hinata, a motherly caring, and that had made her worried and careful. It'd left her not wanting to push Hinata too hard for the fear of making her upset or getting her hurt, not wanting to inflict anything close to suffering on the girl she'd taken under her wing as a surrogate daughter.

This was different. Tsumibitoko set expectations and expected them to be met, but it wasn't like her father's expectations—the cold shoving behind her that made her trip and fall—it just never seemed to occur to the demon girl that Hinata could fail or fall short, the way her father had always been anticipating as he watched her with eyes that screamed his every icy thought about her. It didn't even seem to cross Tsumibitoko's mind that Hinata might not conquer her training; strict and stout in the belief that she'd take to it like a duck to water. It wasn't even pressuring or scary, it was _liberating_. That blithe, absolute conviction—so obvious that Tsumibitoko hadn't even spoken any encouraging words like "you'll do it, I know you can", because the thought hadn't ever occurred to her she wouldn't. It was shockingly different. It wasn't even fond faith there that drove such thoughts for the demon girl, no doubt just a blunt, confused "why the fuck can't she do it? Don't bullshit me with 'can't'. Pisses me off."

And Tsumibitoko wasn't afraid to give her a good old shove and some short words (to get rid of those dark, self-doubting thought from her mind that always started Hinata's downward spiral into failing or messing up), nothing positive either, each word filled with an irate logic that cleared away the cobwebs and that same unfaltering, dismissive belief that made Hinata's steps light.

But there was always an approving nod and some short, favourable words there waiting when Hinata got something right or gave a correct answer, and then that wonderful surprised and mutedly smug 'knew it' look on tanned features when she exceeded expectations. They were fuel and made it all worth it, that and the strength and joy she felt in herself, the bright pride and pleasure. Maybe she _would_ have that self-confidence by the end of this.

"Shit," Tsumibitoko abruptly cursed under her breath, scrambling to her feet in that light jump that Hinata envied.

"Wh-What? What i-is it?" The heiress asked in confusion as Tsumibitoko hurriedly clawed dirt into her hands.

"Uhhh…" Tsumibitoko looked between the dirt in her hands and Hinata perplexed expression. "Don't freak, okay?" Then she dumped the dirt on the heiresses head and began smudging it onto her cheeks. Hinata spluttered and attempted to bat the hands away, shocked, but Tsumibitoko just hissed at her and rubbed harder. Then the hands were gone leaving the heiress indignant and bewildered and Tsumibitoko was slipping round the side of a tree, a dirty tattooed finger pressed to her smirking lips, eyes dancing bright with mischievousness as she 'shh'd. "Tell them you were practicing a doton jutsu." Then she sank around the side, disappearing into the bark and it's shadows like a forest spirit. Hinata just blinked in frustrated bewilderment, hair mussed and dirt on her front and face. Her father would _not_ be impressed.

Then she felt the rapidly approaching chakra signatures.

A flicker and two sweaty, mussed ninja landed in the field, both looking concerned. It deepened on seeing the dirty Hyuuga heiress and the decimated terrain.

"Hyuuga-san!" The kunoichi cried, "We felt a disturbance from this abandoned training area and suspected the worst—" that was ninja for 'attack from an unidentified enemy' "—are you all right?"

Hinata smiled slightly, bowing a little. So that's what Tsumibitoko had meant. These ninja had felt her practicing her destructive earth style in a known _deserted_ spot mid-training and rushed to confront the potential problem. Ninja were paranoid like that.

"N-No, th-thank-you. E-Everything's fine, I was just p-practicing a-an earth jutsu th-that c-could c-compliment my t-teammates getsuga…I-I w-wanted…p-privacy from my…ano, c-clan," she bit her lip, ducking her head as if in shame for admitting this fact. "Th-Thank-you for your prompt c-consideration a-and reaction…t-though…" She smiled shyly up.

"Oh," the kunoichi huffed in relief. There was an edge of slightly confused suspicion in her eyes, but it was greatly tempered by the 'how could anyone distrust that face?'. The Hyuuga heiress felt her stomach do a nice, sickening roll, lungs clenching in guilt. "Well. I'm glad you're all right."

"Please, be more careful next time Hyuuga-san," her shinobi companion murmured, bowing before retreating back into the forest with his scolding kunoichi friend in tow.

Hinata stayed still as their signature faded, before slowly letting out a breath of relief, slumping slightly.

"Nice work," she heard complimented sarcastically from behind her, the smirk there obvious. "That getsuga detail was gold."

"I-I'd…r-rather not t-talk about it…th-thanks…" Hinata mumbled, sighing gustily with her back facing her demon as she tucked a strand of dark, now dirty, wayward hair behind her pale ear. She rubbed at her grimy face with her sleeves.

There was a pause, then, "Aaaaaall riiiiight." Of course Tsumibitoko didn't get it. "Whatever floats your boat, human. Let's get on with the training." A hand grabbed her sleeve and she was tugged impatiently back to the centre of the clearing.

"Sit." Tsumibitoko flopped down, legs crossed, automatically falling into a meditative pose, one leg over the other. Hinata copied her, opposite. "_This_, is the earth meditative hand rest." Tsumibitoko let her hands fall into that same sign she'd made when she bowed after training, one fist against her slanted palm. She rested it in her lap. "You do the water, which is like so," the demon girl's wrists twisted as she lay her hands flat upon one another, palm on palm and fingers on pulses, a very regal, elegant pose. It didn't fit right on her like the earth one did. Hinata mimicked it, surprised by the smooth relaxation, as her muscles sunk into the calm that came with it. Like her body had been built for such a pose and had been waiting for years for her to figure it out. There was an easy _flow_ to it, like her chakra was circulating far easier than before, like her canals had loosened and it was all rolling through her palms fluidly and unobstructed by skin.

Tsumibitoko gave a knowing smirk at Hinata's surprised expression.

"Yeah. It'll do that on the first go." She let her hands fall back into the earth meditative rest and let out a soft sigh; she looked solid and reliable, like a rock that had weathered eons of time against its stone and still stood strong, if a little worn around the edges. Tsumibitoko peeked out from under one eye, catching Hinata's watching and making the girl blush and look down. Tanned lips smirked.

"Makes it easier for the next part," Tsumibitoko continued breezily, eyes falling shut. "That loosening, easing feeling of your chakra is what you need for the second step. Now, you're going to have to be…patient, with this training. Fuck, trust me, it'll be frustrating and you'll want to just give it up at some points because your journey to conquering your element will be far harder than demons because we're _born_ connected, whereas you are born with a chakra system. You have to let your chakra flow like mine, let it leave the canals and fill your body, without destroying yourself or damaging your internal organs."

Hinata's eyes had snapped open. "T-That's i-i-i-impossible!" She felt dismay and sadness course through her, fear and shock clogging her throat. That was just intrinsically wrong to everything she had known and been taught about chakra. And she'd been taught a lot, she was a Hyuuga.

Tsumibitoko continued like she hadn't been interrupted, but her voice became a bit more forceful. "It'll be dangerous, but not impossible. You were born and built for this, _after all_." The demon girl scowled a little, stern and pissed, and even those gold eyes closed Hinata knew it was directed at her. "Every Daemon Cantrix gets it in the end, even if it's a hard road. Take a chill pill, human." Then she opened her eyes, a threat threading her words harder. "You'll do it, because that is what you are. You'll do it, because you know that you can and want to. You'll do it, because you have the ability, unlike other humans, and you will triumph where they would die trying." It wasn't a compliment, it was a simple fact. An order. A threat.

There was a short stare down—Hinata trying to find the words to make Tsumibitoko see sense, _because she was human not demon and it __**wouldn't**__ work, she'd kill herself!_, and the Youkai girl impassive and determined—before Tsumibitoko spoke again.

"You'll do it."

Hinata faltered a little at the unwavering confidence in those words, the 'try me, I will _dominate_ you' in those open eyes. She looked between golden irises and her own pale, meditating hands in her lap—lying against one another, calm and staid, ready to dole out death with pointed jabs and flashes of invasive chakra or maybe…one day…flicks of freezing water—at the flowing that was filling and fuelling. Addictive and new. More than anything, she didn't want to lose this change, this turn of her life.

Hinata closed her eyes in defeat.

Tsumibitoko nodded, recognising her backing down and not bothering to rub it in, dominance asserted but not cruel or smug with it thanks to the seal. "Today we'll focus on you finding that connection, recognising it and affirming it. It's gonna be weak compared to a demons, but far stronger than a humans. You're going to have to meditate, just float and focus on what you feel when you move water, it should come to you if you forget what you're doing and fall into the feeling of your connection. You'll know if you got it by the end of the day, it'll be distinctive if you managed t—look, you'll just know if you got it. Okay?" Hinata's lips twitched as she watched Tsumibitoko scowl, a brunette eyebrow twitching as she failed to explain, her golden eyes closed.

"This is what I meant before by the training being frustrating. It'll be slow as fuck, but we'll speed up when we get to the juicy stuff. Just don't push yourself or you'll trip and fall flat on your face. Take it slow. We don't have time to pick up the pieces and start again."

Tsumibitoko was short and impatient and blunt with her words, but the warning was clear.

"Now," the demon girl sighed, almost smug, and unfolded from her sitting pose onto her side, propped on an elbow languidly—splaying out like a cat in the sun, a god in repose, a lazy smirk on her face. She flicked a cigarette to life against her lips, eyes hooded. "Go nuts with the meditating hoopla, pure eyes."

Hinata's eyebrow wanted to twitch, but refrained, letting out a low breath and letting her lashes flutter closed, sinking into the calm darkness of meditation—slowly shutting off her senses one by one in the numb, floating relaxation she'd been taught from a young age, left only with passing whims, flitting thoughts and the deep, dark well of her conscious. Oddly enough, she trusted Tsumibitoko enough with her physical body to let go like that. Hinata was defenceless after all. It was a show of faith, even if she was a bit nervous.

She sunk into the calm, letting her thoughts drift, barely tangible and innocuous as she examined them gently before letting them slip away, submerging further. The warm afternoon whispers of air against her skin and clothes, the heat of her body and the texture of her clothing, the aches and pains and discomfort that came with skin and muscle and bone detaching from her minds awareness, all lost to the comforting, cool darkness that was a soft pressure around her, smooth against the faint sensation of her skin.

She drifted beneath the waves of her conscious for who knew how long, losing herself to thought processes as she lingered and flowed willingly with the blankness, never focussing on anything for too long, forgetting what she was doing or why she was doing it and just letting it all go deep in her mind. It was that nonentity that came with deep meditation that Tsumibitoko wanted; it was easier to find your connection when you weren't consciously looking for it. When the itch of searching (even if you tried to forget or hide it) was shifting under your skin, your connection was a wraith on the wind, intangible and dancing out of reach. If you just sunk deep into the nothingness of your subconscious so far you forgot the reason you went there, you could sneak up on it, it would come to you. She'd read this all in those scrolls for Daemon Cantrix's—one Demon Singer had been a great lover of theories and had written multiple scrolls of his hypothesis on the state and training of his kind utilizing the wisdom of his experiences and information witnessed by other demons as evidence—and it was apparently coming in handy.

For demons their connection was innate, they didn't have to look for it, it was just there—but humans weren't like that. They didn't have the old ways and ancient contracts guiding them and their beings, they had to find the thread of their connection, and even then it was impossible for anyone but Hinata to nurture it into a flow and then a natural engulfing that became barely second thought.

Tsumibitoko had given up on watching her bond, bored as she slouched against a nearby tree, only a foot or so from the human, tossing a rock between her hands without touching it. There was an impatient edge to her sharp movements, though her face remained lazy as she sprawled out against the bark and grass, curling her bare toes into the earth. It had been hours, and the sun was kissing the horizon, blood staining the sky and throwing the clouds into definition as the world hovered on the edge of dusk.

The demon girl huffed a lengthy sigh, slumping further down the tree, the clothing on her shoulders rising with her hair against the tree as her tossing upped its speed.

Tsumibitoko finally grew bored with that as light from the moon slowly rose over the violet sky, spearing silver through the leaves and trees, hopping to her feet weightlessly and lazily riding a rolling ripple of earth to the middle of the clearing, back foot higher than the other, stabilizing herself. It was nice, this freedom with her connection, not having to worry about being seen. She paused when she reached the middle of the training clearing, glancing back and Hinata who was still deep in mediation with no signs of rising, and scowled, tapping her foot—uncertain of what to do to quell her boredom. She glanced down at the perfectly smooth rock in her hand, chucking it up and down a few times, before sighing and letting it fall to the ground—shifting her body low, feet spread far apart, and swaying out her arms, eyes closed as her body smoothed into the movement flawlessly, fingers splaying over the air as she strained and loosened the earth back to how it was before her little demonstration all those hours ago. It became flat grass and dirt, rocks and spears and debris grinding against one another as they crumbled and forced themselves back beneath the crust, leaving a peaceful clearing in their wake, grass blooming rapidly to cover the many patches of tossed dirt.

Tsumibitoko straightened, brushing herself down in a bored fashion. "Well. That took seconds." She glanced back at Hinata. Still out of it. Damn.

The demon girl placed fists on her hips, then after a few moments of thought, sunk into a kata—feet making soft, jagged sounds as they scraped against the dirt while she began to almost silently move through the movements. She turned sideways, leg rising high as she twisted back around with her hips, bringing it down in a firm cut, before sliding low, feet far apart and sturdy, into the next kata. It was tedious, actions she'd done so often that her muscles worked practically without input from her mind, but it was something to keep her _vaguely_ occupied. She danced through the punches and low movements and kicks slowly, drawing them out, the dodges and weaves as she mechanically progressed through the katas. The only sounds in the clearing were the soft distant melodies of nature and Konoha's nightlife, breathing and feet patting or dragging or twisting lightly against the ground.

The sky was glinting with stars and darkness, deep into the evening, as Tsumibitoko swept down low, hands brushing the ground but refraining from using her earth connection, one leg out long behind her, slanted to the grass and the other bent, as she twisted her torso back upwards, arms snapping together in a rising tiger, one out long and the other across it. Her breath was deep and calm, with just the slight edge of a rasping quality that said she'd been at it for hours, a gentle dappling of sweat in her hollow of her throat and at her temples. She'd just been going through every kata she knew, drawing them out and putting her all into the straining, slow movements.

Tsumibitoko knew it was late, and that Hinata probably had a home she had to return to soon if she didn't want to get into trouble. But it was dangerous to attempt to wake someone from mediation, drag them from the depths of their mind—least of all a ninja who'd no doubt have violent, adverse reactions on base instinct, and may not rise enough from their deep contemplation enough to realize and attempt to stop what they were doing till minutes later.

Besides, for all Tsumibitoko knew, Hinata might just be on the cusp of grasping her connection and pulling it to her—allowing them to properly start their training tomorrow—and she might disrupt that in the most hazardous way possible. Tsumibitoko could only wait for the heiress to drift from the meditation herself, hopefully her body's needs crying out for food and sleep and a toilet doing it for her.

The moon was high, crickets chirruping softly, as she sunk low into a sweeping kick that rolled back over her head to leap back to her feet with a snap—freezing and whipping her head round at an awkward angle, half on her back, when the soft glow of shimmering blue edged her peripheral, panting softly, chest dipping and rising, a dribble of sweat trailing down the side of her tanned face.

Hinata was glowing, two of her chakra gates ignited like shining water.

Tsumibitoko collapsed from her frozen kata gracelessly, crawling rapidly over the ground, eager as she perched in a crouch before Hinata—practically vibrating. The heiress's expression was as serene as before, but her chakra canals were lit up like blue vines of energy beneath her skin, the luminosity not strong enough to fully penetrate her clothing and only showing fully where her skin was bared, but the condensed radiance of her gates were enough to pierce their glow through her jacket. The sting of chakra hummed in the air, pushing and pulling like it was confused, yet rising like there was a crescendo it wanted to reach. Another of Hinata's chakra gates slowly kindled, burning bright in her gut, another higher layer of humming added to the symphony of chakra.

Tsumibitoko bit down on her thumb, bobbing in her crouch, a spark of faint nervousness and hope twinging her usually emotionally cold chest. "C'mon…c'mon kiddo, you can do it…" She swallowed tightly, gnawing on her lip hard and crouching as close as she could without touching and disrupting Hinata's deep concentration. The blue trails of light weaved across Hinata's skin, lines of bright blue drawn in slightly curving patterns centred around her eyes upon her face, drawing up her neck.

The two gates behind her forehead light up abruptly and Tsumibitoko twitched back in surprise, drumming fingers against her knee. That was five gates then. Three to go.

The demon girl watched closely for the next half hour as two more began to glow, one painstakingly after the other, the pace of their lighting up slowing. That kinda worried her. What was going on in there?

Tsumibitoko sighed in relief when the last one bloomed into blazing life, but paused when Hinata's eyes didn't open. She stayed, frozen for a few very long, agonizingly uncertain moments, glowing and meditating as Tsumibitoko watched helplessly, unable to discern what was happening on the outside and whether this was cause for panic or not.

Suddenly Hinata slumped, eyes snapping open wide and panting wheezily for breath as the air-trembling hum and the brilliant glowing of her skin (like someone shining a torch from beneath the ocean) reached its peak before dying spectacularly, fading like dying stars, the chakra blowout rustling the trees and bushes for a few moments like invisible people were shaking them. The wildlife in their general vicinity quieted, cowed by the chakra ripple, leaving the night around them eerily silent.

"You…you okay there, human?" Tsumibitoko asked hesitantly, wanting to reach out a touch everywhere worriedly to make sure, but satisfying herself with a very quick prod. Might be a bit dangerous to touch at this point.

"I-I'm…f-fine," Hinata gasped, half lying down as she trembled slightly, muscles quivering as she flinched and tried to choke off a noise in her throat.

Tsumibitoko moved forwards immediately, her chest twinging rapidly at seeing her bond in this state, straining control snapping like weak elastic band, and gently hauled her human up half in her arms. She felt better for being able to touch and hold and protect anyway, it was a relief.

"You're aching, right?" Tsumibitoko asked quietly, carding her fingers through those silken strands of dark and tucked the heiresses head under her chin, rocking her slightly. "I know, it feels unbearable, like blood rushing back into a limb that's had pins and needles and gone completely numb, but all over and far more intense." Hinata nodded shakily. "It'll go away; it's just your chakra adjusting. I read about it." She sighed, pressed her nose into the girl's hair and closed her eyes, squeezing. They really were just both out on a limb with this training, struggling by on the shaky knowledge Tsumibitoko had from the scrolls collected by demon kind. She just hoped she didn't fuck up and accidentally kill the Daemon Cantrix. Tsumibitoko swallowed hard, letting out a long, slow breath to calm the ridiculous hitching of her heart and stomach.

Soon, Hinata's trembling slowed to the occasional twitch, her gasps evening out into quietly ragged breathing. "Pure eyes…?" Tsumibitoko ventured softly, voice gruff and questioning.

The heiress nodded, letting out a shaky breath, "I-I'm okay now, th-thank-you."

The demon girl nodded, awkward and sharp, shifting out from under Hinata and standing—wanting room to breathe and not…touch so much—grabbing the girl by the back of her collar and hauling her to her unstable feet, somehow gentle if not a little rough, careful not to be too careful because that would…would imply weakness and giving to this whole damned situation—and no. No. Tsumibitoko still couldn't do that, wasn't that far gone, still had all of herself left.

"You should head home, that was a lot of progress today. We'll work more tomorrow."

And then she did what she did best. She ran.

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_**HOURS LATER**_

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_**Far north Fire Country, undisclosed location in the forest**_

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Tsumibitoko paced in the woods, wearing a rigidly straight dirt trail across the ratty, dark grass.

The trees were entwined and sprawling in these parts of the forests that Fire country was so famous for—deep and dark and mangled, like something from a children's storybook or a nightmare. Vicious creatures weren't hard to find and the ever-so-cliché bats fluttered overhead in most trees, hanging from the twisted, gnarled branched like morbid decorations. Roots curled from the ground as if reaching for some passer-by's ankles to drag them beneath the dirt to hell, clawed and catching on clothes and shoes if you weren't careful. Tsumibitoko could feel the eyes of the wildlife on her back, wary but not unwelcoming, she was as much a part of them and their world as they were after all—she was just another vicious beast prowling the haunted night. Animals weren't afraid to come up to her, more cautious, as if recognizing an alpha, a predator, but once they got used to her presence she was just another part of the scenery.

"What do you think, panther-chan?" She sighed tiredly, crouching down and gently scratching behind a soft dark ear that flicked in her direction. Bright, predatory yellow eyes cracked open, a rumbling noise as the giant cats tail swished gently, curled up around its dark-furred lithely muscled body.

He and his pack were lounged around the clearing. They'd been on guard and bristling when she'd entered their general territory, but warmed up to her presence when she broke the neck of a strong buck and threw them the warm carcass. She knew she'd been around for a few hours, deep in thought, and didn't want any trouble or distractions. Peace offerings worked like that.

The cubs were still picking at the remains of the buck; gnawed bones clattering and leaves rustling as they wrestled. The unsavoury parts, like intestines, that wouldn't be eaten were starting to smell up a storm, but Tsumibitoko was used to the aroma of bared and rotting innards so she brushed it off.

She huffed a sigh again, eyes drawn back to the spot she'd been pacing in front of for hours.

_Don't do it…you're just digging up the past…_

_But then, why would I have kept it—locked it away safe in the roots of a tree—if I wasn't going to…to __**do**__ something with it someday? Why would I have kept it? Hoarded it away like some fricking squirrel, never touching it and ignoring and running form its existence, but taking damn comfort in knowing where it was, knowing that the only thing stopping me from getting it was myself?_

She ran so much; she was so tired of it. Hinata was bringing out all these things in her, making her own up to them even if she kicked and screamed the whole way, and fuck, Tsumibitoko had wanted to touch it and wear it and look at it so _bad_ for all these millennia…

She was still clinging to that past, those memories, even if it was faint and just stubbornly digging its heels in. Maybe this would…would be closure…maybe this would set her free from the guilt that simmered in her chest.

_"Isn't that what you're doing too? Running? Weak we may be, but at least we know when to stand and face—at least we can own up to the fact that we run!"_

Tsumibitoko made a frustrated noise in her throat, frowning slightly as she stood and paced back towards the spot again.

Her hands were shaking slightly, but she ignored it, letting out an angry noise, pissed at herself, and walking faster, leaping into stance—one foot forwards, body slightly turned and sinking low in landing from the jump, sweeping hands forwards then drawing them back to one side—and there was a tremble in the earth, a small rumble, as the ground shifted and a rotten wooden box rose like a coffin being lifted or the dead arising, through the dirt and grass that had grown over its spot for all those years.

It wasn't very well made, just something bought cheap off a market stall in a hurry, but it looked strong for its age. It was a jewelry box, carved by gypsy hands millennia ago, one side of its lid slightly crushed and splintered and worn down from a root that had grown over it. It was rotting, but only slightly starting to deteriorate since Tsumibitoko had shoved some of her chakra into it hurriedly to keep it strong before shifting it under the earth.

Tsumibitoko was immediately assuaged with all the doubt and fear and guilt she could scratch together in her emotionally numb state—swallowing tightly as she stared uneasy golden eyes upon the innocuous little box, sitting amongst the turned dirt and tangled tree roots.

She rubbed her face, slowly kneeling before it and reaching out a faltering, tentative hand—as if waiting for the box to smack it away and demand what the fuck kind of right she thought she had to disturb its rest and try to actually touch what was within it like she wasn't a monster—she stopped and started again a few times, hating her pathetic indecision, before trembling fingers carefully brushed dirt off the worn wooden surface with their knuckles, curled into her palm slightly.

Tsumibitoko sucked in a slow breath, shakily picking the box up and sweeping more dirt off it, leaving the worst parts and setting it before her on the undisturbed ground.

She let out a tiny, trembling breath, and fingers very gently on either side—clicking the little catch away with her thumb and creaking open the battered lid. It rested inside, barely disturbed.

Tsumibitoko bit her lip; so much feeling rushing up into her chest and leaving her stomach a void of emptiness that every knotted twist was impossible to decipher—especially for her—as she blinked at the item, blinking away suspicious hot wetness that threatened the very edges of her eyes, not enough to spill.

The locket sat, completely oblivious and distant in the slinking mass of its long, delicate gold chain. It was old, very old, and was obvious by how the metal was tarnished and worn, once bright and soft gold she remembered so vividly around a pale neck. She remembered how she twisted her fingers slightly in the chain, played with it, when they kissed, she remembered how that made the owner of the pale neck try to stifle familiar, fond laughter into their gesture of affection at their little inside joke as Tsumibitoko's own lips curled ever so slightly in response—

She slammed the lid closed—anything to stop the overwhelming tsunami of memories that brought only pain with them—panting for breath and trying to regain control of her emotions as a tear dripped, hot and scalding and absolutely frustrating, a betrayal of her own body, down her cheek.

She scuffed it away with the heel of her hand, shakily regaining her breath and tilting her head back, blinking desperately up at the night sky marred with leafless branches that scraped at the moon and stars.

She opened the box again sharply, forcing her eyes back down and breathing deeply—_as if that's going to stop the emotion you dipshit_—god she _hated_ feeling—and gritted her teeth, golden irises stubbornly forcing themselves to trace over the delicate links that were wound over one another, the locket itself that sat pride of place.

It was a simple golden oval, patterns of leaves and flowers engraved and entwining round and round to the small pink diamond love heart in the centre. It was painfully feminine and girly, pretty and so damn ancient and frail looking.

(_Has it really been that long? That many years? I'm all that remains of what once was? Is her life even recorded, written down somewhere—**anything**—even if it won't get the personal stuff like how her skin felt and how she loved ducks and how warm her kindness was? I'm the only person that remembers from those hundreds of years ago…_)

The name 'Keiko' was engraved under the heart in flowing script, bold as brass and easy to read even after all these years.

Tsumibitoko had to stop herself from slamming the box shut once more.

She caught her breath, the suffocating feeling persisting as it tried to force her lungs and heart through her chest.

There was something playful about the necklace, something fond and something loving and something kind, or maybe that was just Tsumibitoko.

"I'm sorry," she whispered raggedly, reaching out, apologizing for daring to touch it, to wear it as she would do. It wasn't her right, her place.

Her fingers touched the cold locket and it shifted on the pile of its chain, hesitating once more painfully, before slipping fingers around it, lifting it free of the dark cramped jewellery box and moulding padding. The chain hissed against itself, tinkling softly, as she removed the locket from its resting place, what little moonlight that could break through the trees catching its tarnished surface. She gently rubbed her thumb carefully over the tiny pink diamond heart and the name, looking unreadably at the necklace for a few moments, the expression indecipherable but tight with emotion. Tsumibitoko found the catch and gently pried it open, slipping the chain around her neck and clicking them together again.

Its paltry weight felt like guilt.

She sat for a few moments, trying to calm everything—it felt oddly anticlimactic, no grand shift or change with the locket around her throat, no freedom, no emotional damns bursting with human-ish something's, she wasn't crying oh thank god, the locket hadn't broken her like she'd expected and feared—it was just numb almost, tired and tight in her chest. A sort of acceptance and sadness that lingered; aching and suffusing her torso like hot, painful steel wool.

She let her head fall into her hands, the locket shifting around her neck, bumping against her forearms and slipping between them as her fingers buried in her messy hair—her crouch wavering slightly at the modification of weight and balance.

Then she stood abruptly, the tarnished lockets weight tugging at her throat, and let out a fierce howl of fury, kicking the box with all the strength and complete rage she could. Her face was torn in anger, teeth bared wrathfully. It shattered across the clearing against a tree, returned to splinters and fragments of wood and hinges.

Tsumibitoko let out a pant, glowering, before snarling and stuffing hands in her pockets—ignoring the stiffened and once-more wary panthers that were slinking back into the deep shadows, their bright eyes cagey—storming into the dark of the forest, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in pockets, her head hung low.

She had to get back to Leaf.

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**AN:** Oooooo, _angst_. 8D  
Wonder if anyone expected that last development…  
Don't worry, it's not going to become a big, big part of the story.  
Btw, I want you to know that I didn't just decide to add it in as a spur of the moments thing, "oh let's make Tsumibitoko still carry a sputtering torch for an old lover with a history attached to it that I'm only hinting at for shits and giggles, because I want complications that make angsty-fun trolololololol". Big no. That's not it at all. I always planned this, always had Keiko in mind when I started writing. If you'll notice, I mentioned her a few chapters ago…


	6. still waters run deep

**AN:** Hmm, don't really got much to say. The usual THANK-YOU FOR THE REVIEWS (much appreciated you wonderful people you), the whole 'sorry this is late, hope you liked the last chapter' thing, and much finger-pointing at the demon that is school for not getting this out on time.

…_And_ my laziness. Dammit.

**Disclaimer:** Couldn't own Naruto if I tried. 'Sall Masashi Kishimoto's, though I do own Tsumibitoko and a few others that may or may not appear later on in the grand scheme. Who the frick knows, with my runaway brain.

**Little something's I listened to while writing this: **Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine, The One About Indifference by He Is We, Other Side of The World by KT Tunstall.

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**These Binds that Tie Us _or_ Shatter the Preconceptions**  
{Chapter Six: Still Waters Run Deep}  
_arc I : hand on the gate_

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_**THE NEXT MORNING**_

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_**Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Training Ground 14—abandoned.**_

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Hinata was…worried.

She chewed on her lip slightly, peeking out from under her dark fan of lashes at her pacing demon sensei. The world was a bit shady and distorted as she tried to be subtle, sunlight glinting off the ponds surface that was rippled with the wind and dappled by the trees shade. Hinata let out a soft, undetectable sigh, focussing further on her chakra and keeping everything stable. Water walking she already knew from her early genin years, water _sitting_ had been a bit of a challenge. Her clothes were already wet from the two trips she'd taken into the drink before her immaculate chakra control had gotten a good grip on the new dispersing and balancing.

Hinata's wet jacket was discarded on the reedy bank, sunbaking and drying on the damp grass, her sodden sandals placed neatly beside it. Tsumibitoko had apparently already known about this overgrown clearing, probably used once for water jutsu. She'd flattened it and cut down most of the grass when they arrived, to make it habitable for their uses. She'd barely talked, just met Hinata at the usual spot—later than normal and dropping from the trees before just looking at the heiress for a while, then sighing and walking over, licking the side of her pale face in listless greeting. She was a bit…gloomy. Hinata would say despondent, but that just didn't _fit_ right. It was like Tsumibitoko was just very pensive, thinking about dark things, memories or the complexities of the universe for all Hinata knew, doing that mysterious-deep-in-though-brooding thing. Maybe that was what the female population of Konoha found so fascinating in Sasuke-san… Tsumibitoko had instructed Hinata on what to do, then sat down and fiddled with the grass, occasionally fingering something under her shirt and just frowning, preoccupied and contemplating in her ancient mind. This pacing was an improvement, if not a very good one.

Hinata felt the cool lapping against her bare toes and delicate ankles, slipping against the skin of her calves—a smooth, cool plateau shifting under her gently. Water was adaptable to changes in its environment, flowing and bending around any obstacles in its way; it was a force of nature, powerful and overwhelming, or subtle and elegant. A trickling, tinkling drip of madness's poison or a raging, frothing tsunami that bayed for blood and roared like the guard dogs of hell. It was influenced and it influenced and above all else, it persevered.

She found a lot of likeness in herself in water. She loved that water was her connection because there was so much she loved about water.

Hinata had always loved it, the hot beating of a shower against her tired, pruned skin as she steamed for as long as she could without someone telling her it was a childish habit for a Hyuuga, the soft socializing of an onsen, the cool sweep of it down her parched throat after a spar that still thrummed in her muscles, the icy splash of it over her hair and face, the patter of it from the clouds, the storm of it from the seas, the dance of it on her fingertips that she'd always been awed at, that had always been her wonderful little secret. Water was her element. Indestructible and eternal and smooth and _powerful_.

She felt the indescribable love come gushing up her chest and into her throat, felt it warm on her skin and bright all inside her, melting against her ribs—that was why Tsumibitoko had told her to just think of her mother element. Hinata smiled blissfully, eyes opening to stare into the crystal-mirror depths of the pool beneath her, pressing hands gently to the surface before her and watching the water lap lovingly at her fingers and palms, soothing as ripples spilled from around her hands, chakra humming through the liquid. There was a pull inside her, thick and slow, like the tide; bright with power and crystalline as it surged through her molecules.

Hinata's smile widened and she drew her hands up, fingertips dipping into the water just so and drawing trails of crystalline liquid up after them, arching through the air over her head, eyes raised reverently to follow its path. The sunlight pooled a rainbow across her pale face, splintered beautifully and shimmering through the impermanent arches of silken water, before they splashed back into the pond.

Tsumibitoko was crouching opposite her, nodding approvingly. "Beautiful." Hinata flushed and looked shyly down at the compliment that was said like it was a fact, picking at the hem of her pants as she tried to whisper out a thank-you and failed. "You were made for our arts, an innate understanding. You'll flow with it like you were born with water demon blood in your veins."

Hinata's eyes widened, looking up at her demon as her heart gave a sharp thump of surprise and building delight. She had a feeling that was quite possibly the greatest compliment Tsumibitoko could ever gift a human and smiled brightly all of a sudden, like the sunlight blazing through her arches of water, sincerely thanking her teacher even if she stuttered from pleased embarrassment—cheeks pinked—and locked the wonderful memory away for safekeeping.

Tsumibitoko sat at the edge properly, yanking off her boots painstakingly with a grimace and tossing them haphazardly over her head—apparently she preferred barefoot but wore shoes because humans thought it odd otherwise if she went into town. Hinata smiled slightly, tilting her chin down in an attempt to hide it out of habit from being around stuffy Hyuuga's, as Tsumibitoko sighed in relief and let her feet hang into the cool pond, kicking them slightly and scrunching her toes, trailing them around and drawing patterns in the ripples like a child. Hinata's pale eyes drifted to the discarded boots. It also seemed Tsumibitoko had a habit of treating most everything (barring animals and her precious nature) like furniture—people and places and objects were all things to be towed around and tossed about uncaringly without a hint of delicacy like an oblivious bull in a china shop. The thing was Tsumibitoko knew she was being like that—wasn't all that oblivious, even if she appeared so—and just didn't give half a damn. It was amusing most times, considering nothing had been broken yet. Hinata liked being around someone who tickled her so, she almost felt like an exasperated but caring parent.

"Right," Tsumibitoko stated, laying backwards across the grass, feet kicking through the water as she tucked her hands up behind her head. Always finding the most languid and effortless pose, bored and relaxed from thousands of years of experience. "What's the most you can do with water? Your fanciest move. Lay it on me."

Hinata blinked. Then did it again, biting her lip nervously. "A-Ano…I-I can't…r-really do much. Just…uhm, d-droplets and…um, tr-trails of w-water…"

Tsumibitoko seemed to pause, before propping herself up on her elbows, eyes heavy lidded. "You're telling me you never tried to investigate the fact you can move water around with flicks of your hands. At all."

Something in her tone—dark and slowly realizing and stumped—felt to Hinata like, _well this is the end of the road, I can't teach you now_, for some irrationally fearful reason. "I-I…didn't really kn-know what it was…I w-was scared of i-it a bit m-myself…" She swallowed and ran her fingers through the cool water beside her knee, feeling it slide past her skin like weightless satin, and took calm from the connection. She felt a little ashamed actually, and apologized mentally to water in general for not attempting to utilize this beautiful, wonderful gift she'd been given sooner.

Tsumibitoko sighed and frowned a little. "Okay, that's understandable I suppose. It's not like you had anyone to teach you or tell you what the heck was going on. But…I don't want you to think like that from now on," from her tone, Hinata suspected she wasn't _allowed_ to think like that from now on, the order kind of helped. "You know how greats are made? By telling the boundaries where to stick it and making your own way. You set limiters like fear—which is healthy and good and blah in some situations yada yada yada—" Tsumibitoko rolled her eyes as she drawled, contradicting her words, flapping a hand in circles where she was propped up on her elbows and Hinata curbed a smile again, "—but you put things like fear in your path the only one holding you back is you, and that'll piss me the fuck off. So don't do it. If, while training, you find a move you like, something that makes you comfortable, you use it, you improvise, you expand it. That's what we do—" Tsumibitoko gestured to herself, demons in general, "—we're given the basics of our elemental fighting style—the rudimentary, roughly hewn kata's—and we modify it, we change and put in our own moves that suit the way we move and our own strengths in battle, we _make_ our own style. Because we're all different and something that works for one demon may not work for the other. No limiters. That way we're the only ones who can hold back and monitor our own power and strength. See?"

Hinata felt a little something like awe at demons opening a bottomless pit in her stomach. "Th-That's…i-in…intense." She mumbled breathily, though it made sense for demons, she supposed, who'd have many, many languid years to modify and perfect and alter their art. "S-So…I-I'll have to make m-my own…style?" She swallowed worriedly at the thought.

Tsumibitoko scowled. "You're doing it again. Snap out of it human." She sighed roughly, sitting up further, still sprawling confidently like usual, leaning on her knees. "Look at it this way. Is the Hyuuga '_Gentle_'" she sneered "Fist working for you?"

Hinata blinked, pondering her answer to the question. She did feel held back by the Hyuuga style. All her life it had been like weights dragging her down emotionally and physically, something she had to master but didn't have the talent or love for. And she'd _have_ to love it if she was to improve and become a master of the Jyuuken without talent, because you couldn't triumph roadblocks like she had without honestly putting your heart and soul into training—but Hinata couldn't. Because she _hated_ the Gentle Fist style—the kata's and the movements that were drilled into her since she could crawl, the style that was a symbol of everything wrong in her family to her on a subconscious level, the source of their arrogance and cold pride and the reason why her father despised her and her sister never looked her in the eyes unless she felt like sneering—but was too scared to tell anyone. It was unthinkable. She was a Hyuuga and it was the Hyuuga taijutsu style, handed down from generation to generation and no Hyuuga hated it.

Her dislike was holding her back.

Just like Tsumibitoko had said, 'we're all different and something thing that works for one may not work for the other'—and Hinata…she was a Hyuuga not born for the Hyuuga Gentle Fist Taijutsu. It was something she'd known for a long time, the source of her recent self-disappointment and sadness. It was a fact as scary (she'd been raised to see her family's style as her only source of strength after all, like any other Hyuuga) as it was painful. The thought of, _now I'll never get her father's approval or my sister's love_, a throbbing litany.

But, maybe she could this way. She could do this herself, become strong _this_ way and prove to herself—for once not for Naruto-kun, not for anyone but _herself_—that she could be strong in her own way. Hinata's way. Because 'we're all different and something thing that works for one may not work for the other'.

Hinata found her eyes suddenly bright and wide to the imminent, honestly looking forward to it for the first time in years. She'd always have water and her demon and a whole exciting future spreading out before her like a network of stars—and she was actually looking _forward_ to finding a style, a power in water, that she couldn't with Gentle Fist. She might learn to finally stand tall, to be _proud_ of what she had, to know her flaws and accept them and work tirelessly to rid herself of them because that's what someone strong (not just in body, but in heart and mind) did, instead of mulling them over hopelessly. She was only as strong as her belief in herself. She didn't want to rely on anyone else anymore for that. She could craft the Hyuuga Style to something that more befitted herself. She had a _chance_.

Hinata, very tentatively, shook her head 'no'.

"Exactly," Tsumibitoko stated. "You won't build your own style, that sounds too…complicated and rigid. You're…_creating_ your strength, crafting it to your greatest advantage till your unstoppable and incomparable, if you're a master. You're just taking the kata's and moving them the way you want, and then, if you feel confident enough, improvise. That's what fighting is after all. Kata's make up only a tiny percentage of what you need to win in the heat of battle, the rest is all unwritten and instinct, observation and intelligence and letting your style mould to fit the fight and your opponent to your greatest advantage, because neither will mould magnanimously to suit your style. See?"

Hinata nodded again, smiling and not hiding it, eyes eager and bright with gathering knowledge. Tsumibitoko really was a whole lot wiser than she looked—her appearance misleading in accordance of her true demonic age.

The demon girl smirked, eyes heavy lidded, voice a satisfied purr that reminded Hinata of a warm weight in her lap and crushed grass heated by the high sun and fingers stroking sedately through wild brunette tangles. "Atta pure eyes."

Then she slipped into the pond. Hinata blinked in bewilderment, her demon yanking her t-shirt over her head uncaringly and leaving herself in just a sports bra, before wading deeper and ignoring her pants. She shivered slightly as water lapped up her stomach, goose bumps picking out all across her skin and raising fine hairs. No doubt the water was sun warmed on the top but fading to cold and heavy at the bottom. It felt a little bizarre for Hinata to be sitting on what felt to her like a solid surface with her demon distorting it like that and standing up to her ribs in it before the heiress.

"A-Ano…a-are you sure y-you're not co—"

"Of course I'm fucking cold," Tsumibitoko grouched. "It's fucking freezing, but you have to be difficult and be goddamn water, so I'll just have to deal." Hinata tried not to smile as her demon shivered, vibrating like a puppy, and 'stretched', trying not to let it look like she was furiously rubbing warmth into her upper arms. So her demon didn't like the cold, how cute and childlike. "Couldn't just be earth like most other Hyuuga chakra types…I'm a landlubber by nature…swear to god by feet are going numb…" she grumbled, Hinata only catching what wasn't under her breath. Tsumibitoko scrunched her toes into the sucking silt at the bottom, grainy and slick and squelchy as it pulled at her feet. She sighed in relief at the connection to earth, not scrunching her nose up in distaste like most, trying not to dive down and kiss the wonderful stuff.

"Sweet, sweet silt," she sighed wistfully and Hinata scrunched her nose up slightly. "Hey," Tsumibitoko brandished a finger at the heiress, looking stern and disapproving, "Don't knock the stuff. It's all I have in water. You know lightening is attracted to water? Lightening!" She looked distinctly horrified at the thought.

"B-But…" Hinata pressed her lips into the smile, she pointed shyly upwards, "T-There's n-not a storm-cloud i-in the sk-sky…"

"Training grounds. Always a possibility. Can never be too careful. You got lightening-charged quacks round these parts, right?" It wasn't really a question, but the heiress blinked and gave a faltering nod. "Nyah-ha, that's what I thought."

Hinata tried not to giggle at this newfound part that brought Tsumibitoko out and closer to her. Lightening. Obviously her natural enemy as earth. It was odd to imagine her demon being afraid of _anything_, but the way she trivialized it and made it a bit of a joke obviously showed she had accepted the fear as a part of who she was as an earth demon, even if she disliked it vehemently.

Tsumibitoko placed hands on Hinata's knees and the heiress flushed, the scarlet on her pale cheeks deepening, abruptly and awkwardly aware of how they'd look—her in her mesh chainmail shirt, wet, and the demoness wearing nothing on her boyish upper body but a bra that was black and fitted her entirely too well. She looked as comfortable and confident in it as if she was wearing clothes.

"You know that feeling you felt when you called on your connection?" Tsumibitoko asked, completely oblivious.

Hinata nodded, only having to look down a little from her sitting on the water to her demons serious eyes.

"Right. Well. Pull on it. Hard. And don't stop till I tell you to."

"E-Eh?-!" Hinata squeaked, control slipping and making her splash into the water, disappearing beneath the surface. _She can't be serious!_ The heiress popped back up, gasping for air and plucking soaked hair from her face, parting the curtain of its sopping waterfall to stare in utter disbelief and a little fear at her demon.

"Don't _start_ with me human," Tsumibitoko growled exasperatedly, looking abruptly intimidating with them on the same level and her a little taller once more. "I told you that you had to gain control of your connection, be able to let it engulf you and release from your chakra canals at will before putting it back. You're different from how demons are born, we're created like that, you have to work for it. Now get your ass back up on the water and yank on that shit. I'm here to stop you from giving up or hurting yourself or drowning."

Hinata swallowed, nerves twisting around her ribs. It was still utterly contradicting everything she'd learned about chakra, how a human could survive when using chakra, but…but she had to trust her demon. The heiress let out a shaky breath and placed hands on the water surface, hauling herself back up and sitting, crossing her legs and, after a moment of thought, slipping her hands into the water demon meditative rest. She searched Tsumibitoko's face, looking a little anxious. The demon nodded and patted her knee absentmindedly.

"You've already connected with all the human chakra gates in record time. You'll be fine," she dismissed, tightening her thin ponytail as if bracing for something, evening out her breathing. Hinata swallowed a nodded, taking a few moments to gather the pure love she felt for water, hands trembling slightly as she firmed them, frowning and reaching out inside herself—catching the tail of water and _heaving_. She let out a sharp cry through her teeth, the scraping feeling inside herself reverberating through her chakra canals, but she didn't stop pulling, feeling a hand on her upper shoulder and another under her knee, helping her stay afloat as she took strength from being surrounded by her mother element.

It wasn't giving, the blockage she was yanking on, leaving her lungs breathless and her stomach heaving, her chakra and body desperately protesting the abuse, trying to hold their structure together even as her chakra clawed at the insides of her canals to free itself. This wasn't her body anymore, she was just a medium for her connection, she had no control and it was terrifying and sickening and she just wanted it to _stop_.

Hinata gasped, sweat mingling with the water. "_I-I can't_—"

"Yes you can! Pull!"

The heiress was faintly surprised to find herself being held now, her chakra fluctuating too much for it to hold her on the surface anymore—up to her shoulders in the water with Tsumibitoko down beside her. It was cool and heavy around her, lapping and comforting.

Hinata's hand shot up to grip her demons shoulder, a pained grimace on her lips as she choked off a sound of pain as she pulled and something caught—trying to hold itself even as she demanded its release.

"Hold it!" Tsumibitoko barked, closer than she expected with her eyes shuttered off from the world. "Hold it, take a breather, don't let go but don't pull." Hinata gasped for breath in the reprieve, even as it built and tried to push through and something strained to block, "Now _pull_!"

"I ca—"

Tsumibitoko suddenly shoved her under the surface, holding her there by her shoulders for a few seconds as she struggled and bubbles rushed to the surface, then there was the rush of water and she was gasping for breath against her demons shoulder, wet brown clustered in her vision. "You can't stop now you've started—it'll kill you. Pull or I hold you under again till you choke!" Her voice had an edge of desperation.

Hinata pulled.

There was a great, rough rasp inside her, grating like trying to pull a stone free from its home in cement, and she heard—somewhere through the sound of her own blood marching through her veins like it was in a great hurry—her muffled scream into the pliant sun-browned skin of a shoulder and neck, chakra writhing in agonizing ways she never knew it could. She was fighting against her own body trying to protect itself.

It suddenly released with a sickening, slick pop inside her, like something slimy had been gumming up the easy flow and she'd yanked it all free, and there was a powerful, heart-stopping gushing as power tumbled through her body like air rushing in an airless vacuum. The terror was clear and sharp, like ice (she was still afraid this would kill her, her chakra was in her body, _outside_ her tenketsu and canals, _**outside**_), but at the same time she'd never felt anything so freeing and numbing. It was like a cage inside her had cracked, then fallen to dust and shards, a white bird flying free to the blinding sun in her chest.

She was left gasping, eyes wide, into Tsumibitoko's shoulder.

It felt like the water was fusing to her skin from the pool, becoming a part of her, climbing through her flesh, and she never wanted it to stop. The connection wasn't letting out little leaks like it had before that allowed her to flick water around, it was a condensed tsunami without any barriers in its way—rushing in a torrent of dazzling water to rest half in her body and half in her connection, to settle and fill her—an endless pool to draw from. It was what her body had been straining for without knowing for years and it was shocking the amount of tension that just _seeped_ from her muscles and bones, sapped away to lie limp and blissful, by the blaze of awareness that came with freeing the connection.

Hands on her hips and she was hauled from the water—she whimpered a little without thought—water streaming off her body and hair, but then she was sat on the grass, her pants legs floating slightly in the water, her calves still submerged. The air was a slight chill on her skin, the pond having been heated by power. "Look at yourself with byakugan," Tsumibitoko said softly, palms still resting on the heiress's waist, her presence a sold warmth that moved slowly backwards further into the pond and away from Hinata—eyes riveted on her human bond as her hands fell back to plip in the water, clear trails snaking across sun-kissed skin like dew.

Hinata felt bereft—her bond and connection too far away from her liking, still shaken and craving that powerful release of power—but activated her byakugan with a whispered word (having to lick her lips halfway through when it cracked and rasped). Her sight pumped like they were sharpened by adrenaline, vision rippling, before it honed into crystalline shades of grey and white—every shape defined and clear-cut to the point of pain, her gaze taking in the whole world around her, each breath of each animal, each heartbeat, each blade of grass, each brush of wind through the trees, each shift of the earth beneath her and the chakra in each living thing. Tsumibitoko was a burning golden heartbeat blur, standing out sharply from her surroundings, like nothing Hinata had ever seen, and her focus lingered there, picking out the serious, expectant expression beneath the surge of chakra. Hinata looked down at her own hands held out before her.

Her breath gave a catch in her throat, too weak and soundless for a gasp but definitely surprised.

Her skin wasn't written with the smooth lines of the soft familiar blue pulse of life that every human and ninja especially had. It was a lighter colour, far, far lighter than the intense azure that was normal, it was a blue so icy it was almost silver and it glowed from every inch of her skin from beneath and between her bones and muscles. She slowly looked down her arms as she held them out before her, following muscles as chakra flowed and parted around obstacles under her skin, rolling like water around rocks and not damaging anything at all. She could feel her canals still there, empty and rubbery under her skin, waiting to snap back into place and return to a normal human. Her eyes trailed further, staring down at her torso and watching the chakra gush around her heart and lungs and liver and stomach, circulating and pulsing and giving and taking from the water her feet were dipped in.

"It won't kill you to leave the water, even if it looks like it's your life support, a part of you. But you'll feel better touching the stuff. Then again, since you'll only really need to activate the connection when fighting, you won't really be apart from it." Tsumibitoko said, head tilted slightly as she looked down and drew rippling swirls in the water, creating little curling waves in her fingers wake. Hinata could feel that. She was shocked. Hinata could _feel that from the waters point of view_. Like someone drawing patterns and parting her own skin, an echo of sensation through the connection.

She slowly, tentatively, drew her calves and feet from the water. Couldn't feel it. Dropped them back in. Could feel it.

On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.

"Having fun there?" Tsumibitoko sounded like she was trying to curb amusement at Hinata's obvious wonder. The heiress blushed, mumbling something like an apology under her breath, but stubbornly slipped back into the water—trying to adjust to the amazing, frightening, bizarre feeling of it just become an extension of herself. A weapon. A friend. Something ancient and far older than anything she could ever meet again. It was wise and knowing, and, if she listened, it spoke to her in whispers tumbling over one another like a babbling brook. It—Hinata felt a burst of incredibly humbled awe—was willing to share its experiences and knowledge with her. Salty tears slipped from the corner of her eyes, wanting to hug the water but knowing it would just slip through her fingers. This was hers, she was this, and she never wanted this taken away from her ever again and how could she have _lived_ without this till now?

It had been watching her, all Hinata's life, looking out for her and knowing what she was and loving her. Soothing the heiress with its presence in baths and showers when she just needed numb privacy to cry in her childhood, there in the form of rain to accompany Hinata's misery and make her smile as she danced in the puddles and it bounced off her lashes and cheeks playfully, it was there to whet her parched lips on missions, worriedly caressing Hinata's throat and doing all it could to keep her hydrated, it was with her her whole life, looking out for Hinata and waiting patiently for her to come to it and see all that she could be, all that water could be for the Hyuuga heiress and help her with, all that it had already done for her.

Tsumibitoko gave her a knowing look, wading—Hinata could still feel every inch of her movements—over to the edge of the pond and slipping out before turning and flopping down on her back on the grass, sighing softly in relief. "Go nuts kid, we got all day. I know what it was like that first time too…the earth sharing its knowledge and age and history with me…" her voice had softened, become wistful and fond, lost in memories the way Hinata had only seen the older shinobi and kunoichi that managed to survive such a life drift and look back. "Go ahead. Reinforce the bond. We're taking this slow, remember?"

Hinata smiled slowly—wider and brighter and truer than anything else she'd never tried to hide—and submerged beneath the water, her long dark hair pooling up on the surface like petals.

* * *

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_**HOURS LATER**_

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_**Same Location**_

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Hinata was laying on her side on the grass, at a wonky forty five degree angle from Tsumibitoko, her cheek pillowed on her arm. She was still damp, her hair knotted upon the back of her head, too thick and wet to hang free and down in the afternoon warmth. Tsumibitoko had tucked a few daisies into the curve of hair that swept over her face and ear before tucking into her messy bun, growing them as an example of all the types of things she could do with her earth connection, blooming and twirling up beautifully from the dirt in a way that had made Hinata's breath catch. Jutsu's were made for fighting, for destruction and pain; it was saddening and painfully ironic that the demons were the ones that used their powers for life and spirit.

Tsumibitoko was lying on her back, one hand tucked up behind her head comfortably and her other hand pointing up at the sky, tracing invisible constellations and telling Hinata the demonic folklore to do with them that were told at celebrations and gatherings. Demons had their own whole culture and way of life, right under humankind's noses. It was beautiful and vibrant and exotic and astonishingly filled with life—violent and animalistic and primal it may be, but that didn't take away how advanced and intelligent it was, how advanced and intelligent _they_ were. It was more than Hinata had ever suspected of demons, once only knowing snippets on the edge of her mind fleetingly in her everyday life, once so inconsequential, about the Bijuu. Youkai had their own stories, their own religion and thoughts on how the world had started; they had their own heroes from history and from stories, their own monsters that went bump in the night, they had their own songs and dances, their own foods and social niceties, their own startlingly different opinions on sexuality and skin colour and race and creed and war and love. It was a culture shock for the heiress, but something she accepted eagerly without prejudice. Hinata's brain was rushing to take it all in, craving every bit of information she could cram about demon-kind, keen and delighted. The calm, sleepy lull she'd been basking in from her long stint conversing in the most wondrous way with her element was blown away.

Tsumibitoko had said she considered this a part of her training, informing and preparing her all she could for when Hinata would eventually come in contact with demon-kind. It was amazing and surreal, but the Hyuuga heiress just revelled in it quietly, watching her demons eyes go distant with memories as her voice softened around a bedtime lullaby sung by air demons.

It was lilting and light, soft like a gentle susurrus of cool evening air through a window that rustled satin curtains. First Tsumibitoko murmured it gently in demon tongue that never ceased to make Hinata fascinated, then translated it, even if it was choppy and awkward, into something she could understand. She preferred the demon tongue.

They drifted into a thoughtful silence after Tsumibitoko had explained the demon's loose hierarchy, drawing it out in the dirt with a finger, the demon girl giving Hinata time to absorb all that she'd learned.

Tsumibitoko was playfully twirling little cyclones of dirt dust from the furrows of her sketching's on the ground, lying on her side and propped up on her elbow, forefinger swirling circles round and round with the dirt following. Hinata was lying on her back in the grass, eyes watching the sky and shifting slowly through the overload of amazing information.

"Hey, so, human," Hinata turned her head, white irises glinting cloudy lilac where the sunlight hit them. Tsumibitoko didn't look up from her little twister, sounding faintly interested. "Who's this 'blue eyes' of yours?"

Hinata blinked, perplexed, and the demon girl huffed irritably, abruptly sitting upwards and crossing her legs. "_You_ _know_. 'I don't want to see eyes that close unless they're blue', or something to that effect."

Hinata's head tilted slightly.

Tsumibitoko groaned, whipping out the tendril of dirt-dust to slap the back of the heiress's hand sharply with a twist of the heel of her palm. It smarted. "The _rainforest_ human. When I 'put the moves on you' so to speak, and you were all 'oh no u dint'."

Hinata's eyes widened with realization, a full-face blush surging into her cheeks. "A-Anoo…th-that w-was…um…" She gave up and buried her cherry-red face in her hands, "I-I'd r-rather not h-h-have to ex-explain—"

"Spit it out, mermaid. Who's the fella with the baby blues?" She smirked, fang catching on her lower lip. It was almost like the teasing of an elder sibling, only a tad more sadistic. Or were elder siblings like that? The demoness's finger continuing to twirl on her other hand. "Boyfriend?" Hinata shook her head, keeping her bright face hidden. "Crush?" Another shake, this made Tsumibitoko blink and frown in confusion. Then she paled. "_Husband_?"

"N-No!" Hinata giggled through her fingers, the sound sighing off. She thought about it, looked at her demon, looked at her glove and the seal twining underneath it, and decided to trust Tsumibitoko with the delicate glass that were her feelings. "U—…Unrequited l-love."

Tsumibitoko blinked again. Blinkblink. Then she scowled righteously, bristling like this was a personal offence, her voice frothing with fury. "What is he, _blind_?-! Did he reject you?-! Do I have to smack some bitch-ass down?" The dusty dirt of her mini-tornado had been forgotten, drifting in smudges of light brown back to the grass as she clenched her hands into bloodless, sharp-knuckled fists of anger.

Hinata's hands fell from her face in surprise—though she knew she really shouldn't be, Tsumibitoko's default emotion seemed to be anger—the curl of bittersweet ache in her chest as unbearably exquisite as it always was when thinking about Naruto-kun. She was a little alarmed by this shift in Tsumibitoko's mood and more than a little concerned about whether the blond would survive this potential temper tantrum_._

"I-It's…" she licked her lips nervously, reaching out a tentative hand, "It's o-okay Tsumibitoko," _of course it's not, it never is, it always hurts, but please calm down,_ "I-I've…I've grown to a-accept—"

"You shouldn't _have_ to accept it!" The ground rumbled, the demon snarled. "Don't comfort me like it doesn't matter! He's hurting you and _I_ won't accept that! Not from some bitchass punk who couldn't see a good thing if it punched him in the face!" Her eyes were bright with incensed bloodlust and her upper-lip peeled back in contempt, "We-he-_hell_—I'm gonna do fuckin' more than punch it into his skull, _that's_ for sure!"

"T-Tsumi—"

"Tell me everything! _Now_!"

Hinata eventually told her the general timeline of her, uhm, falling in love, trying to fluff out each and every one of Naruto's good points and things he'd done.

Unfortunately, for some reason, Tsumibitoko just got more and more furious, pacing by the time Hinata's voice warily petered off. She would have stopped long ago to save poor Naruto-kun, but every time she tried to stop she'd get a look from Tsumibitoko that screamed 'you so much as pause, I will _flay_ _you_'.

"That…" the demon seemed to struggle for words, enraged to incoherence, "_ASS_!" She finally settled on, growling and fuming. "You confess to him—I mean, you've loved this twat since you first goddamn _saw_ him as a tiny tot—and you confess and take lethal hits from a fucking super villain, and he DOESN'T EVEN _THANK_ YOU? NOT SO MUCH AS A 'I'M SORRY'? NO RESPONSE? HE COULD HAVE AT LEAST HAD THE GODDAMN COURTESY TO LET YOU DOWN GENTLY BUT _NO_—he just leaves you _hanging_, _still hanging_! Like he's had the goddamn arrogance to _forget_!"

Hinata wasn't about to interrupt, a demons temper was lethal and apparently Naruto-kun had incurred it. She felt guilt pool in her stomach, worry clenching her chest.

"So much fucking _injustice_! And the bastard likes this…'_Sakura_'," the word was said with so much venom and disdain Hinata was surprised it hadn't poisoned Tsumibitoko's mouth on the way out, pausing as she paced to flick her fingers dismissively, sneering, before the hand fisted tight, "THE PRICK! What a fucking hypocrite! He has an unrequited love for her; he should know how much it hurts! He should fucking _know_ and never wish that on someone else—leaving you answerless like that!"

Hinata flinched. Well…that…that was actually _true_, but…

Tsumibitoko stopped and turned, pointing at Hinata; not dramatically, just a sharp jab. "If I ever meet this _son_. Of. A. _Bitch_. Don't you _dare_ hold me back. I'll rip his face off with my bare hands and use it to clean a toilet seat."

Hinata frowned slightly, "Tsu-Tsumibitoko…I-I w-w-won't…" she swallowed and tried to gather the fear in her chest with her breath, "l-let you t-t-talk about N-Naruto-kun l-like this…"

"How can you _defend_ that jerk?-! Don't you have any _pride_?-!" The demon snarled, slashing a hand through the air. "For god's _sake_, I can _see_ how much you're hurting when you talk about him! You think I'm going to stand by and just _watch_?-! I'm you bond, I hurt when you hurt, I want to protect you from everything, I want to smash that tossers face in with a brick!"

"B-But…but I _love_ him!" Hinata protested without conscious thought, straightening, voice intense and firm. Tsumibitoko started back a little, silence falling thick in the clearing, thoughts flicking behind her golden eyes.

"…Oh. Yeah. Well. There is that…tiny…detail." The demon girl frowned contemplatively, then flopped down with a heavy sigh, her rage burnt out like a firework. Her face fell in a hand to rest, elbow propped on her knee, voice inexplicably tired. "Damn."

"I love him," Hinata repeated softly, placing her hand on Tsumibitoko's other knee. "A-And…no matter what, I'll always love him. It's just…c-complicated. It…It's a part of who I am. It's the best part of me."

"Don't say wimpy shit like that. You're just fine without that part of you." The demoness defended immediately, regaining just a bit of that fire, voice muffled by her palm. "Pisses me off."

Hinata smiled ever so slightly.

"I hope that bastard steps on a Lego."

"Mm-hm."

"He doesn't deserve you."

"Uh-huh."

"I hope that Sakura drowns in cum."

Hinata flinched at the vulgarity, but managed another strangled, placating sound of agreement. _Sakura-san really isn't bad…she's so strong and kind and fiery…_

"And stop thinking nice thoughts about someone who's stealing your man or I'll make you do an exam on all the demon knowledge I just taught you."

"…R-Roger." Then Hinata bit her lip, "B-But…S-Sakura-s-san and N-Naruto-kun," Tsumibitoko made an indignant, disgusted noise as if their very names put together offended her sensitive sensibilities, "T-They…y-you sh-shouldn't judge th-them…T-They're b-both very sp-special people and…sh-she could do s-so much more for h-him th-than I ever c-could…"

Tsumibitoko tore away from her touch, standing, with another sound of aversion, voice gruff. "I _highly_ doubt that, human."

Hinata smiled sadly, "Th-Thank-you for your f-faith…"

It was only when she saw golden eyes grow wide and bare feet take a faltering step towards her before shifting back, that she realized warm tears were trickling down her face. Hinata blinked, fingers dabbing at the wetness in slow confusion, feeling them come faster. Tsumibitoko was right. It did hurt. A lot. She felt breathless with it sometimes, the feel of her heart breaking taking up too much space for her lungs to work, but she always tried to move and live and not focus on it. The world didn't have time to wait for her to break and wallow, and she was too selfless to do what she wanted, what she had all rights to. Hinata felt her shoulders jerk a little in a sob, trying to wipe her eyes clear even as they blurred further for every tear scrubbed away. The salty water streaked her wrists and forearms, dribbling down her face as she tried desperately to crank off the waterworks.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," she hiccupped, voice painfully confused even as it was thick with tears. "I-I-I d-don't kn-know what's c-come over m-me—" Hinata sobbed, felt a tendril of hair sticking hotly to her neck where her tears had spilled. She hadn't let herself cry about Naruto-kun for so long, always feeling the pain so fully it was numb, but this—this was—this was Tsumibitoko. This was strength and stability and sarcasm and warm, rough hands and ears that loved to be scratched and a temper as bright as her eyes. This was defiance against fate and authority and oblivious insensitivity and determination and selfish energy, this was indifference and cruel amusement and wise knowledge and intensely awkward caring. This was her demon, her bond.

"N-No, human—human i-it's fine," hands were there, brushing her hair back so she could feel cool air against her heated, sticky skin, that voice pained and strained. "Pure-eyes—come on mermaid—don't cry—"

Hinata wept, that voice freed from all barriers and defensive hatred too much, too much comfort as her head was rested on a strong shoulder, the ridge of a collarbone, arms wrapped about her and squeezing her to a comforting presence. They were desperate and fumbling, gauche with the foreign want to protect and shield and fix and show affection, but determined and hurting unbearably at each tear that fell from Hinata's eyes.

She was tucked in close, hugged tightly with calloused thumbs swiping away tears and fingers stroking through long dark hair that had escaped from her messy bun. Hinata wrapped arms around her demons shoulders and let herself be rocked gently, crying all her messy, tired, excruciating, broken emotions out while she was allowed to in this precious reprieve. A hand rubbed gentle circles on her heaving back, Tsumibitoko murmuring to her.

"I-I l-love h-him so much," Hinata sobbed, not really knowing why she was trying to talk through the tears sliding down her crumpled face. "S-So m-much a-and—and," she hiccupped, "i-it's l-like I'm b-being p-_punished_ for i-it," a sob shook her throat, "Wh-Why d-does it h-_hurt_ so—m-much?" Her breath broke and hitched. Strong, wonderfully comforting arms squeezed her closer till it was hard to breathe. She just clung tighter, not wanting to let go just yet, wanting this a little more, finding comfort in the touch of her bond—like a mom or a sister.

"I—I wish I knew, little one," Tsumibitoko whispered despairingly, voice cracked with the pain on her tongue. "Gods I wish I knew, then I could make it go away. I'd make it go away if I could, I swear—mermaid—you're not being punished; if anything he is, for not realizing what's been standing in front of him all this time." Hinata just cried harder. "Pure-eyes…" Tsumibitoko whispered, trying all she could as the steady ache crinkled her brow up helplessly and desperation broke her voice to destitute pain. "Please—please stop crying, he's not worth your tears…"

Hinata just buried her face into sun-browned hair and skin and tried to apologize through her uncontrollable sobs. She was shushed by that dry, rough voice edged with demon, rocked and _cared_ for. It felt astonishingly nice, to be comforted and hugged and held, to have someone else be the pillar to lean on, the shoulder to cry on (quite literally). She hadn't honestly had that in years. Since her mother died bringing Hanabi into the world. It was like an elder sister was holding her, her mother, a grandmother, combing her hair with gentle fingers marked with what held them together.

Hinata was so tightly gathered and clinging to a sturdy chest and welcoming, protecting arms that she didn't even notice the ground leaving her—only when that grip shifted while Tsumibitoko was standing did her feet feel the empty space of air she was being carried in.

"Wh-What…?" Hinata hiccupped, trying to quell her tears even as her shoulders hitched, her chest caving with the pain, the hurt rushing to fill her up from where she'd been carefully damming it at bay thanks to the release she was being allowed. Her demon only ever seemed to see the worst parts of her—the weak parts, the broken parts, the unfixable parts—yet she kept coming back for more and trying to glue her together. They were both messes trying to find what they needed in the other, bonded and held there and fumbling to find reason and hope and everything they'd been missing, in the other. A friend to comfort and understand even when things were irrational and confusing and painful.

"I'm going to take you home," Tsumibitoko explained, hand pushing hair back from Hinata's face, fingers curling over her damp, flushed skin as long, dark tendrils were tucked neat and tight behind an ear.

"D-Don't l-leave me," Hinata blurted without thought, a sob catching on her words. _Please just let me be selfish and weak just a little longer, please—_

"I'm not going anywhere," the voice was fierce with promise, and Hinata cried harder, ribs trembling as a kiss was pressed—chaste and firm, lingering to finalize her words like the seal of a vow, an oath, a pledge, a guarantee—to her hair. Like a mothers kiss.

"Th-Thank—" Hinata managed through a voice ravaged by her sorrow, weak and trembling.

"Don't thank me." Tsumibitoko cut her off, voice like warm steel. "Hold me to it. Don't let me run away. I'm you shield, the duty of my bonding, I'm here to protect you, to teach you, to guide you. I don't need thanks." There was a pause, then, "The occasional ear scratching wouldn't go astray." Hinata managed a blubbery laugh through the tears blurring her vision and streaking her blotchy cheeks.

"D-Deal," she sniffled, feeling her demon moving as she hid her face away from the world in the fabric of Tsumibitoko's latest stolen t-shirt, soft and cotton and a mottled purple as far as Hinata could see. "B-But I g-get to th-thank you. Y-You're not a—" her breath hitched in a dribble of tears that contained all her salty anguish as her heartache rolled in like a lapping tide, thoughts of a sunny blond never far, "—s-servant. Y-You're m-my friend f-first and forem-most."

"Sure mermaid," Tsumibitoko said, curled warm and soft in fond amusement, into her hair. "Now let's get this sleepover-show on the road, mm?"

Always managing to draw a laugh, even if it was a little hollow and empty, it had been dragged—gold and rare and treasured—from Hinata's emotional ruins that were a shipwreck. She felt like she might drown in the tears and suffocation of her chest, burning hot trails down her face as her eyes ached endlessly, tears spilling and staining her skin with pain like black dye that seeped through Hinata's flesh and corrupted her insides in visions of all she could never have. Bright blue eyes that would never look deep and lovingly into hers and a buttery chaos of hair she'd never know the feel of on her face or hands. His weight she'd never feel sleeping peacefully on her chest, curled around her like she was something precious, a sleeping face that he'd never trust to let her see and be vulnerable, she'd never look upon it and feel the love cracking open and blooming and spilling in her chest. Harsh, infectious laughter brightening the day like the sun that would never be for her and tanned arms that would never hold her close and whisper words of love that would draw themselves across her skin in that rough-velvet tenor she adored so much, orange bedspreads and quiet mornings and ramen and slow dancing and mile-wide smiles that might light up on sight of her that would never be hers.

Never hers to touch or love or show or share.

It was all so far from her grasp, locked away from her longing eyes. She would never even get her chance to show him what kind of love she could bring, could give him, _would_ give him if only he asked. She'd never be given the chance by him to spread all she wanted to offer him on the table and promise to be there by his side for as long as he wanted her—and that was almost what hurt the most. That his vision was too full of pink hair and fierce green eyes and strong brilliance like glass and diamonds for her to even be given a chance. She'd give whatever relationship they could make everything and hope to god it would be enough—but it wouldn't. He wanted Sakura. He couldn't—couldn't even _try_ to look her way. _Naruto Uzumaki __**loved**__ Sakura Haruno._ And Sakura Haruno loved Sasuke Uchiha. Hinata wasn't even close to being in the running for Naruto-kun's love.

Hinata's heart couldn't seem to beat right, jumping from her throat to sluggishly hitching in her chest, spreading heartbreak like poison as she turned away from a future that abruptly seemed so hollow and empty from its earlier brightness, barren and bleak with the bleached skeletons of a future she could have had, if she'd been like Sakura, taunting her. But there was warmth and light, brushing away her tears with the soft sleeve of a shirt and a quiet voice holding her close, rocking her gently and making her tears soften occasionally with the hush of hiccupping, misery-laced laugher.

"Mermaid, if you weren't you, you wouldn't have become a Daemon Cantrix. You're special; you're made for better things." A hand brushed hair from her face, she was lying in her bed; covers being pulled up around Hinata's chin and her hand gathered in a bigger, stronger one as her demon hovered like a protective sentinel on her knees. "And if some upstart—with some sort of masochistic complex he likes that violent chick—can't see that, then fuck him. Fuck him in the ass with the steel cock of regret, the shitface. He'll look back one day and then he'll see. I'll make sure to laugh and point when the day comes," she whispered 'confidentially', pressing a kiss to the back of a pale hand and grinning cheekily, teeth pressed to the skin. She looked slightly strained, eyes tight with worry and sadness.

Hinata tweaked a small, tired smile, her eyes heavy-lidded. She was too heavy and weighed down to object the way Naruto-kun was being smeared or blush at the vulgarity; a petty part of her she hated kind of nodded along with it too. That would be gone by tomorrow—guilt for it in its place because Naruto-kun hadn't really _done anything_, she and her feelings had had the breakdown all on their own, he'd never wanted or asked for her affection and yet she'd felt such pettiness and blame, that was _inexcusable_ in her books—but right now the faint bitter spitefulness was rearing its head vengefully. Hinata noticed she must have cried for a while in the training ground, it was dark outside her window. Shadows coated her room, the light not on, and she wondered blearily how and when they'd gotten there.

"T-Tell me a demon story…?" Hinata whispered sadly, voice hoarse and weak from the force of her crying—the evidence of which that was still drying, tight and crusted, on her cheeks. She felt sick with the heartache that was once more retreating to a dull, numb ache.

Tsumibitoko hesitated for a long moment, her form a dark shadow in the moonlight, before Hinata heard her swallow wetly and her hand was squeezed, a thumb rubbing soothing circles. The demon girl licked her lips absentmindedly and shifted closer on her knees, softening her voice to an even, whispering lull that would ease Hinata's headache and send her drifting to sleep.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess, with eyes like emeralds, skin like pearly silk, hair like burnished white-gold, and a smile as kind and cheerful as the sun… and she fell—irrevocably, deeply, undeniably, passionately—madly…in love with a demon…"


	7. indomitus salum azrael

**AN:** Oh, by the way, I did just want to say—before anyone 'accuses' me—that yes, a lot of the, uh, _moves_, so to speak, during fighting with 'connection', are inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender bending. I tried to avoid _character_ mimicry, but the connection moves mimicry during the fight scenes are somewhat modelled after what I've seen on that show. So, yeah. Full credit where it's due—I just sort of forgot till now. Apologies.

**Disclaimer:** Couldn't own Naruto if I tried. 'Sall Masashi Kishimoto's, though I do own Tsumibitoko and a few others that may or may not appear later on in the grand scheme. Who the frick knows, with my runaway brain.

**Little something's I listened to while writing this: **Bitter Sweet Symphony by The Verve, I Get It by Chevelle, Into the Nothing by Breaking Benjamin, Without You by Breaking Benjamin, Break Me Down by Red, Lost by Red.

**By the way, I just finished this chapter and slapped it up on f f . net since it was late—so I didn't really get much of a chance to edit and there may be mistakes here or there. **

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**These Binds that Tie Us _or_ Shatter the Preconceptions**  
{Chapter Seven: Indomitus Salum Azrael}  
_arc I : hand on the gate_

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_Indomitus  
_**untamed, untameable, fierce.**

_Salum  
_**ocean (open sea, high sea, main, deep, sea in motion, billow, waves.)**

_Azrael _**  
angel of death.**

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**_THE NEXT MORNING_**

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**_Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Hyuuga Clan Compound, Main Branch Wing, Heiress Hinata Hyuuga's sleeping quarters_**

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Hinata woke—like rising from warm, dark water—to a gentle tugging on her hand up high. She blinked in bleary confusion, droplets of sleep clinging to her skin and thick in the corners of her eyes.

She felt cozy, comfortable and soothed and rested in a way she could only be if she'd slept in her own downy bed. There was some lingering darkness to her mood from her emotional blowout yesterday, but it was tempered by sleep and comfort. Hinata couldn't, for the life of herself, explain her little breakdown—_maybe because it was my demon? Because my demon was the one there and I can't really do anything but just be truthful when I'm with her._ That was all the explanation she needed in herself really. The heiress raised her heavy head from where it was half-buried in her pillow, blinking once more a few slow times, her bedhead mop of hair slipping down over her shoulders against the deliciously warm sheets and mattress, before turning to look up at her confusing arm. Something was not fitting with what would normally be the simple equation of waking up in her room, namely her gravity-defying hand.

Oh. Tsumibitoko was holding it—_in my room, whu?_ Hinata's morning mental capacity was struggling to process this fact—but the demon was stretched out as far as she could get, on tiptoes and wobbling, trying to reach something high on a bookshelf that was across the room, fingers just brushing a scroll, tongue poking out from between her lips and brow scowling. She was stubbornly holding onto Hinata's hand (which the heiress remembered vaguely asking her not to let go before she fell asleep) while trying not to wake her, even as she strained to reach a scroll she could easily get if she let go and walked over like a normal person.

Hinata felt warmth bubble in her emotionally drained and exhausted chest, lightening it and giving her mood brightness, an amused, warm smile blooming on her lips.

Tsumibitoko managed to brush the scroll, wavering as she stretched on her tiptoes, trying to balance, and just pulling it down with her fingertips. It rolled over the side and she fumbled to catch it one-handed, managing to snatch it in a tangle of fingers.

"Yessss," the demon girl hissed at a whisper, obviously thinking Hinata was still asleep, doing a victory dance and holding the scroll up in a fist pump with a, "Success!"

Hinata pressed her lips together to quell her amusement, licking them and tentatively beginning to talk, "Uhm…s-sorry about yesterday…I th-think I just n-needed that…"

Tsumibitoko "ekk!"d, caught unawares, jumping and the scroll leaping from her hand to bounce and roll to the far side of the room. There was a pause as they both stared after it as it bumped into the skirting board. No way to reach it now while staying connected to the Hyuuga heiress. Then Tsumibitoko turned, pouting petulantly but trying to make it a scowl, "You suck."

Hinata giggled into her pillow till she was breathless, shoulders jiggling.

There was a rap at the sliding door and Hinata popped her head up, wide eyes connecting with Tsumibitoko's saucer-round gold, the demon frozen as she was as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"A-Ano…wh-who is it?" Hinata squeaked, gesturing for Tsumibitoko to hide, who was gesturing wildly and whispering fiercely that there was nowhere to hide in a house of people with x-ray eyes. Hinata tried not to laugh again as Tsumibitoko rushed madly about the room, searching to find a place to conceal herself.

"It's me, Hanabi." She heard her sisters voice, smooth as ice, call muffled through the door. "Are you decent?"

Tsumibitoko held her hands up, crossing her forearms in a big 'x', shaking her head wildly at Hinata as if imitating a buzzer.

"N-Not qu-quite, Han-nabi-chan," Hinata yelped, a little strained, her stutter worsening with her nerves, as she gestured a desperate '_what do I do?_'. Tsumibitoko suddenly paused, then looked down. At first there was a sneer of mild, arrogant distaste on her features (something that was familiar), before it gave way to grimly determined grimace—and she promptly scrambled under Hinata's covers. The Hyuuga heiress let out a squeak.

"…Hinata-neesama? Is everything all right?"

Hinata flailed, whacking the squirming lump that was Tsumibitoko attempting to mold herself to Hinata's legs—_was she crazy?_ The demon girl pinched her thigh.

"E-Everything's fine! J-Just…st-stubbed my toe! On the b-bedpost!"

She felt the hot gust of air that was a snort against her knee and kicked slightly in retaliation. The growl of "watch iiiit" was easy to discern. Hinata wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness and in amusement, but was a little too scared of her family finding out about her harboring a demon to honestly do anything but hyperventilate.

"C-Come in H-Hanabi-chan!"

The door slid open and she tried not to twitch too much under that suspicious, cold, dry, 'good grief, are you actually acting odder than _normal_?' look gifted upon her by white eyes that glinted steel in the sunlight. Her sister was a pretty little thing, slight and lithe, a cold beauty with thick dark hair and disdainful eyes and rigid, elegant posture and neat clothes. A prodigy, a perfect example of the robotic ice that was the Hyuuga clan.

Hinata meanwhile had bad bedhead, aching eyes from her silly crying, and was holding her lumpy, thick, soft covers up under her chin, hoping its natural poofy-ness disguised that she was currently hiding a demon under there. The comparison made her feel a little depressed.

"Father wants you in the courtyard by eleven. He wants to see if you've…" she seemed to taste the next word on her tongue and found it bitter, "_improved_." There was the hint of scorn in the slightly curled lip of Hanabi's mouth, her tone screaming 'doubtful'.

"Th-Thank-you H-Hanabi-chan," Hinata smiled weakly, kicking again slightly and disguising it as a shift for comfort when she felt outraged lips whisper "what a _bitch_" against her leg. _She's just misguided; she's a child and my little sister._ Her voice became a little strained, smile twitching, when she felt devious fingers run up her sides, feathering and tickling her mercilessly. "H-Have a g-_good_ morning!" her voice hiccupped and faltered "—training with y-your t-t-t-team H-Hanabi-chan!"

Hanabi cocked a cool eyebrow, obviously scornful of her odd behaviour. "And the same to you Hinata-neesama," she answered shortly, more out of the stiff politeness and respect drilled into her than anything else. "Breakfast's waiting." She slammed the door in her familiar understated way.

Tsumibitoko's head popped up from the thick covers, grinning widely and flushed slightly with the body heat, hair in disarray. She huffed a cheeky, amused snicker as Hinata curled up and hugged her ticklish sides, poking the demon girl with her toe in punishment. The door banged open once more and Tsumibitoko flattened herself against the mattress, dropping like a weight, burrowed back under the covers. Hanabi scanned the room with suspicious, narrowed eyes—Hinata was tense as a wire, heart racing with the shock and sharp spike of fear—then she nodded a jerky bow and slammed the door closed once more.

Tsumibitoko slowly peeked up over a crest of blanket, eyes wide, the imaginary ears flattened back over her head so easy to superimpose, and she and Hinata stared at each other for a moment—before trying to muffle their laughter in blankets and pillows.

"D-Did you s-see your f-face?" Tsumibitoko cackled, barely a whisper of sound as tears welled in her eyes.

"D-Do y-you have any ide-idea how d-dangerous th-that was?" Hinata tried to scold as she laughed herself senseless, "If-If I'd l-laughed wh-when you ti-tickled me H-Hanabi—"

"Hooo, pull that tree outta your ass, human," Tsumibitoko snickered, splayed out over rumpled blankets with hands tucked under her head. "You can't lie, that was fun as fuck. Live a little." She sprung up and grabbed Hinata's hand, twirling the girl, who shrieked slightly, into a wonky waltz—spinning her dizzy and drunk on delight and excitement. "Join the wild side, we've only just started! It was a thrill wasn't it—just that little bit?"

Hinata faltered in the surge of the moment, looking at the bright grin on her demons flushed face, "I-It…w-was fun…b-but I'm n-not naïve e-enough to l-let you t-talk me into…i-into lying anymore th-than I have to…" She swallowed, hoping that wasn't an unjust accusation, biting her lip as she watched the smile fade into an affronted frown on Tsumibitoko's face. "I-It was fun because it was w-with you…w-we were t-talking and…a-and laughing…and you were…were enjoying b-being here…"

Tsumibitoko's scowl dwindled into the silence and then she sighed heavily, "Fuck I want a cigarette," falling back on the bed, propped up against the wall and tilting her head, lips pulled wry. "Man, you get me all mad then I can't even stay pissed at you."

"I-Is that a-a good thing?"

"Not sure." Tsumibitoko pulled herself back up off the bed decisively, like she'd come to a verdict about something. "If anything good came out of this, it's that I've realized you have a life outside being a Daemon Cantrix," Tsumibitoko bit her lip and leaned contemplatively against the window sill, catching a falling blossom between her fore and middle finger, twirling it and rubbing her thumb over its silky fullness. "We really do have to be careful about how we meet. You can't keep disappearing, people will become suspicious—and you already have obligations, being a ninja and having a family like the Hyuuga." Golden eyes slid to Hinata, not turning her head, something there was a bit worn-out. "So, I'll see you in two days."

Hinata felt something drop like an icy stone in her chest. "Tw-Two d-days?" She gasped slightly, swallowing around the blockage in her throat—there was a stinging in her eyes she had nothing to do with conscious choice. The seal was twisting on her hand again, twisting her feelings with it.

"Hey," a tongue licked her cheek gently, "you've survived without me till now. We just have to be careful with how we go about this." Tsumibitoko frowned and smirked in that odd way, "Don't let those Hyuuga push you around." Her brown finger prodded Hinata's shoulder, "And don't go on any missions again without telling me. And practice your connection a bit. And don't let that dumbass fishcake of yours get you down." Then there was a wink and a smirk before Tsumibitoko slipped out Hinata's window—the heiress hurrying forwards and leaning out it, only catching the tail end of the demons agile barefooted leap that bounced off one of the sakura tree branches, quivering it with a soft thud and shaking chimes of petals free to the cobbled ground far below—then she blurred and was gone.

Hinata sighed slightly, shoulders sagging where she was precariously leaning out the window, hair hanging to the cobbled ground over the gardens. Then she gasped, whipping back into her room and letting out a squeak on sight of her clock. Ten-thirty. She scrambled for clothes, trying to get dressed and strip off her pyjamas at the same time. She had to eat breakfast, in proper slow Hyuuga etiquette, before meeting her father—so she had to be fast while changing.

Hinata fumbled with the zipper of her jacket, running fingers through hair that could survive without a wash but would feel more comfortable with one if she was honest, trying to flatten it—snatching up a brush and running it through the long, thick, soft locks that spilled through the bristles. She pulled out the thing that had been rubbing at the back of her neck from the jackets collar, pausing in her brushing when she saw a small daisy twirling between her fingertips, a little droopy and crushed, but peeking up and her. One of the ones Tsumibitoko had grown and entwined in her hair, with that bright, rakish grin-cum-smug smirk. Hinata blinked once or twice, eyes glassy, biting her lip and placing the flower gently on its side on her desk. With one last lingering look at the daisy, Hinata turned and pulled her ninja sandals on, hopping slightly, and hurried out the door—giving one long glance back at the room, the flower, the window, the rumpled bed—before shutting it behind her and dashing down the hall.

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**_LATER THAT DAY_**

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**_Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, The Northern Sun Tea Café_**

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Hinata slipped fingers under her long jacket sleeve, rubbing absentmindedly against the sore bruise on the soft under-skin of her forearm. It was only from her father's fingertips, the stab of chakra closing the tenketsu it was right over, but he'd struck with force. He hadn't even talked to her after the courtyard 'training session', just leaving with the council like he couldn't bear to face his disappointment for too long after she'd failed him once again.

Hinata sighed softly, ruffling wisps of dark hair, and cupped her hands around her clay tea-cup, warmth blossoming against the skin of one palm and the glove of another as she stared into the rippling liquid blankly for a few moments before mechanically taking a slow sip of the hot, sweet jasmine tea. Her favourite.

It was like every team from the 'famous' Rookie Nine had a designated hangout. Team Seven was Ichiraku, Team Ten had that barbeque place Hinata's squad rarely went to with Shino-kun's aversion to meat, and Team Eight had The Northern Sun tea café. It was odd really, if people knew Kiba-kun they'd hardly peg him as a tea guy at all, but all three had a taste for the stuff. The tea was soothing and calming, the place itself had a warm, friendly feel which contributed greatly, and it was where Kurenai-sensei had always taken them, where they'd truly become a team—it just became a sort of home from home.

They were sitting at one of the dainty outside tables, in the shade of a tree planted in a large stone pot, chatter and the sound of cutlery on china around them. It was a popular place. But Hinata couldn't think shade without dappled ponds and rippling and meditating and the blinding rush of power and love, and she couldn't think tree without dirt and the sliding-shifting low of a sweeping kick that drew the earth in its wake and Tsumibitoko and her habit of sitting in the peace of a tree as bird chirruped, the only sound the demons breath as she reclined on a low branch, legs swinging slowly, before cracking a searing golden eye open to look at Hinata in her patented 'what _now_ human?' way, before grinning a smirk slightly—caught in the peaceful scene of Hinata's mind.

It was like this Daemon Cantrix…thing, had infected her everyday life, fringing and infusing into her thoughts, shadowing her each move till it was all she could breathe and taste. Hinata looked down at the glove on her hand, running her thumb over its palm as she stared at it unthinkingly, lost in memories of water and whispering and knowledge and the love of a parent over a youngling as she looked up, watching the surface ripple from beneath in the shadowy, cool blue world of water, eyes wide with wonder, hair wafting like seaweed as the liquid sung and tumbled it's tales of time and tide in her ears, air bubbling silver and abstract from her parted lips slowly.

"…Hi…ta…nata…Hinata!"

"Hm?" The Hyuuga heiress jolted, gloved hand curling into a fist and falling to her lap, blinking up at her teammates.

Kiba was frowning worriedly at her, Shino blank but for an ever-so-slightly raised eyebrow.

"Are you feeling all right?" Kiba asked bluntly, reaching out a clawed hand that looked too like Tsumibitoko's as if to touch her forehead. "You've been _out_ of it lately." His eyes darkened dangerously, glinting with the protective instinct of an alpha over his pack. "Is there something going on in the compound we need to know about?"

Hinata shook her head, smiling weakly, "N-No, s-sorry…I'm j-just a l-little sleepy…training t-too much. What were you s-saying Kiba-kun?"

Shino just continued to look doubtful, the expression deepening almost undetectably to anyone but his teammates, as he raised his cup to his lips—shaded eyes like lasers in the side of her face. He always could read people like books. Normally that was handy; right now it was detrimental to Hinata's motive. Gods she hated lying to them like this, her stomach curdling fiercely with guilt and shame.

Kiba's face however softened, "I was just telling Shino about the coming of age ceremony bash us Inuzuka are throwing for my cousin something-removed this weekend."

Hinata blinked, peering curiously at her Aburame friend, it was hardly like Shino to show active interest in a social event.

"I have recently been examining the canine resemblance among the Inuzuka Clan; behavioural patterns, eating habits, pack mentality, etcetera. This gathering would be an apt time and place to witness these traits while they are ensuing on a mass scale and record my findings." Shino explained, bluntly monotone. Hinata nodded sagely, eyes closed and lips parted as she raised her teacup. Ah. That made more sense. Shino's scientific curiosity.

Kiba growled, already narrow dark eyes narrowing further as he fed a biscuit to the lazily sprawled Akamaru by his side. "Bullshit. He '_suspects_' we might have demon blood somewhere in our ancestors, way back before Konoha was founded—don't mince your words bug-boy."

Hinata hid her smile at the familiar banter behind the rim of her tea cup, before freezing. "D-Demon…blood?"

"It is not proven theory, but such an outcome would not be unexpected," Shino nodded decisively, obviously marking Hinata's abrupt tensing and wary question as something else.

"Sure we're a little feral," Kiba grumpily muttered as he stabbed a claw into a dango and brought it to his mouth. "But that doesn't mean we're massacring _monsters_ like the Bijuu."

Something in Hinata snapped, rearing protectively and bubbling hot in her throat. She didn't even see Kiba-kun, she just saw a bigoted stranger, his familiar features wiped straight out of her memory in that split moment, when she _knew_ what an open-minded friendly person he was. She just saw someone she had to protect Youkai from, defend them to. It was frightening when she looked back at it—what this Daemon Cantrix thing had turned her into, what it could make her do.

"Demon's aren't monsters!" Hinata was on her feet before she could even think, voice _furious_, slamming her cup down with both hands hard enough to make the table shake, tea sloshing over the side.

Kiba and Shino just stared, one dumbfounded with his jaw hanging, dango falling with a splat from his fingertip to land on the table top, the other breaking his impassive, sardonic persona enough for his eyebrows to go up a jot. Which was a lot for Shino. Hinata felt stares on her tensed back.

"I…" she gulped, faltering hands leaving her cracked cup as tea spilled across the table and dripped to the ground like a leaking faucet, wet on her hands, broken clay tinkling. She knotted dripping hands in the hem of her jacket, bowing, "I-I'm sorry. Th-That was u-uncalled—I h-have—father. T-Training. Kiba-kun. Sh-Shino-kun." She sharply jerked her head at them one at a time in goodbye. The she walked away, trying to keep her back straight under the weight of the stares even as she ducked her head and attempted to make it look like she wasn't hurrying. The shame filled her throat, and not because people had actually gawked at her. She shouldn't have snapped at Kiba-kun like that. She wasn't a snapping _person_. But she had. And it didn't sit right at all with her conscious or her general opinion of her wellbeing.

This Daemon Cantrix thing was daunting. She'd accepted it, but didn't know how she'd be able to cope two days—that had once looked so short—before feeling calm and at peace and home once more by her demons side. Hinata wasn't functioning properly and it hadn't even been a few hours.

She'd apologize properly and profusely to Kiba-kun next time she saw him, right now Hinata needed to find a pond or a lake or any private body of water and meditate and try to work on her bond. She needed to calm down.

Anything to have her feeling whole and _herself_ again.

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**_TWO DAYS LATER_**

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**_Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Training Ground 14—abandoned._**

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Hinata felt like skipping as she made her way to the training ground, having mumbled something about a private day of training to her father at the breakfast table, an 'effort to improve herself'. Not even that could get her down today, with her demon somewhere ahead.

Hinata's smile slipped when she found the clearing empty. She blinked, then murmured 'byakugan'. Her demon's chakra stood out like an unwavering beacon in the dark, lying upon the branch of a tree without a care in the world, legs swinging. Hinata walked over, already feeling something loosen and relax from the tense knot in her chest. She stood under the tree and looked up at the foliage, byakugan fading, "Ts-Tsumibitoko…?"

There was a pause, then Hinata giggled as her demons head popped out, swinging upside down right in front of hers with that rakish smirk-cum-grin, hanging there by the grip of her hands and legs, hair falling by gravity's will, canine snagging on her lower lip. She licked Hinata's cheek excitedly, eyes cheeky, "Good _morning_ there, what's a pretty little mermaid like you doing round these parts?"

_Well someone's in a good mood_, Hinata thought happily, giggling slightly, a star blooming in her chest and pushing out all the loneliness and exhaustion. "I have an a-appointment with a d-demon; you wouldn't h-happen to know one w-would you?"

"What a coincidence!" Tsumibitoko fell and twisted in the air to land in a slight crouch, catching an arm round Hinata's shoulders as she straightened. "I happen to be a demon waiting for a rendezvous with a mermaid! You wouldn't be her, would you?"

"W-Well, I do happen to l-love water, a-and on the f-full moon I sprout a fish tail—does that c-count?" Hinata tapped her chin, looking shyly up. She'd never really played around like this before, it sounded silly but she wanted to know if she was doing it right. Tsumibitoko didn't seem to notice her doing anything wrong, just vibrating slightly like a puppy. Apparently time apart and meeting again had the same effect on her that 'letting her be demon' had.

"Hmm, gills?"

"E-Either side of my neck."

"Scales in good condition?"

"N-Not one m-missing or cracked yet. Shiny as a button."

"You'll do." Tsumibitoko patted Hinata's shoulder, steering her further into the clearing, smirking and walking away, her long thin tail of hair slipping back from where it had whipped around her body from her twisting fall from the tree. It slid across her shoulder in strands of dark chocolate, like light moist earth, and Hinata's gaze followed it up to where it was knotted low and the wild mess of spikes (she just wanted to lick her palm and flatten them motherly) that were now familiar. Tsumibitoko turned her head and that odd bang caught between her bright, in-human eyes like usual, grinning predatorily. "Now, let's see how this mermaid swims with the big fishes, shall we?"

"…E-Eh?" The smirk on her face was devilish and Hinata felt a little nervous bead of sweat trickle down the back of her neck. She had a feeling Tsumibitoko was contemplating doing all sorts of devious things to her and that odd question before wasn't helping.

"Kata's, human." Tsumibitoko purred, eyes alight in unholy glee as she spun a thick scroll on her fingertip. A flick of her fingers and Hinata caught it with a smack in her palm, ducking slightly away from its impact. "I drew them out for you like a regular Taijutsu scroll. Demons usually pass things like this on in demonstration, physically, to keep it alive and unrecorded but in minds and tongues—but I'm an earth demon and we have no water demon around. It is fundamentally wrong for me to do water Youkai taijutsu even just in example—it's not just tradition, it's an insult—so you'll have to do it this way with my guidance on the sidelines. Savvy?"

Hinata nodded, fingers itching to pry the scroll open.

"Good. I want every inch of that read by midday and I want you practicing with it from lunch onwards. It's best to get the tedious bits over with or I'll become bored," Tsumibitoko drawled, hopping onto a low branch of a tree and splaying out, one leg hanging down with hands tucked up behind her head. Hinata sweatdropped as she slid her thumb under the seal of the scroll, pulling free the ties—of course the demon girl would think about it from a selfish and fickle perspective.

Tsumibitoko watched Hinata lazily out the corner of her eye, peeking at the girl as she mouthed words and traced fingers over the stances, knelt eagerly over the scroll spread across the grass. She remembered, in a flash, that face streaked with tears and the grief of heartache, the human girl's emotions rushing in like a tsunami, abrupt and crushing and destructive. Tsumibitoko let her eyes fall closed, brows creasing in a frown. That was why she despised emotions. They could bring the strongest, toughest person to their knees, they could destroy and damage and scar far worse than any physical wounds, they could _break_ you. And Tsumibitoko had watched them break Hinata, over and over again as she cried, the emotions gushing in to take her feet out from under her without a warning, with just a few words and an admittance of unrequited love. It had been heartbreaking. It had made Tsumibitoko _feel_ like nothing she'd ever felt before, and the emotions had strangled her, drowned her, as she cradled the breakable, soft human close and comforted her.

The demon girl turned her head to stare up at the patches of sky through the foliage. Hinata was strong. So much stronger than Tsumibitoko had thought or anyone could see. She had such a soft outline, made of silk and shyness and insecurity and kindness, that it was impossible to expect the steel core that thrummed within. The steel core could bend, could flow around obstacles and grow with the changes, it could give beneath the weight of pain and sadness and inferiority, but it would never collapse or shatter; it would always straighten and rise once more and steady the foundations of Hinata's being.

Hinata Hyuuga bends, but doesn't break.

Tsumibitoko smirked, wriggling ever so slightly to settle herself against the trunk of the tree in just the right slouch and lax of muscles to be mind-numbingly comfortable—she'd had millennia of nomadic, tree-resting life to perfect it after all—feeling smug. At least her bond turned out to be something special; at least there were more aspects than first appeared to this new Daemon Cantrix. There was a tangible air of unpredictability about Hinata to Tsumibitoko. The Youkai girl never knew it she'd get a giggle, a soft scolding, an angrily stuttering retort as she defended and protected, a bright sunny smile that lit up her face and told the demon girl she'd said something undeniably _right_, or that hurt flinch and a bitten lip as she lowered her eyes and let out a quiet apology while plucking at the hem of her jacket. The last one wasn't fun, but that was a part of the curiosity—like emotional Russian roulette.

Tsumibitoko yawned slightly, flicking a cigarette to life, the soft crackle as she sucked, ash glowing and falling from its tip, hissing out soft familiar-tasting smoke, pungent and thick against her tongue and in her throat, licking her lips. It was familiar and reassuring, the heat and taste and sensation of it expanding in her chest, something to pass the time. It had just become something to do in the lonely hours, fumbling, bored, through pack after pack to keep her hands busy and a part of her mind as she'd stare blankly straight ahead, brooding and lost in her ancient thoughts. She tucked the lighter back into the cup of her bra with the push of a thumb, parting lips to close back around the cigarette.

Hinata was on her feet, rolling the scroll out with her foot a bit before peering down, glancing back and forth between her raised hands and the scrolls contents, trying to get the upper body stance right.

"Elbows further apart!" Tsumibitoko called lazily, Hinata glancing up at her in mild surprise before obeying. "Good. Loosen up a bit. Earth style's all in the joints, with water you have to flow, be joint-_less_. Slip and slide and flow around your opponent. You're not a forceful wall, you're an evasive wraith." She sighed like Hinata already knew this and was being deliberately obtuse, tucking hands up behind her head and handing the human girl a mock-withering look. "You're _water_ remember. Not a stiff Hyuuga. Un-tense those muscles, they're unsightly on such a taijutsu form."

There was a pause as Hinata slowly, focusing on each muscle group one by one, trying to fit and slip into the style—and not roll her eyes.

"You want me to choke on my sarcasm, don't you?" Tsumibitoko asked blankly.

"L-Little bit," Hinata responded without thought, a gentle smile tucked in the corner of her lips as she watched her feet trying to shift into the position on the scrolls.

Tsumibitoko barked out a laugh, ironically almost gagging on her cigarette. "Thanks _flower_," she drawled sarcastically, smirking full of teeth around her cigarette. Hinata flushed at the new nickname, _mermaid, and flower, what else is next?_

"Indomitus Salum Azrael."

Hinata blinked, looking up at Tsumibitoko, who was siting slightly up and smirking as wide as possible without it becoming a grin.

"I could see it in your face. You're an open book. It's Indomitus Salum Azrael. Flower, mermaid and Indomitus Salum Azrael. They fit."

Despite not understanding the last one, Hinata would be lying (and she'd already done enough of that) if she didn't feel a blossom of pride and general touch-ed-…ness at that, biting her lip to hide her smile as she stumbled over her own awkward phrasing. _Flower, mermaid and_ _Indomitus Salum Azrael. _She'd been gifted a name in demon tongue—by _Tsumibitoko_. It felt like an honour, a rite of passage. Someone had said to her face, no matter how indirect, that they'd never seen her as the shy, dark, weird girl like everyone else _("I like people like you!" The flash of a grin that haunted her dreams, that rough voice and sunlight glinting off a mess of blond spikes as she tried not to faint with the intoxicating blood gushing through her head)_. Tsumibitoko had only seen, in Hinata, an Indomitus Salum Azrael—someone deserving of a name in demon tongue. She'd only seen a mythical, stunning, water-loving mermaid—someone made of spirit and storms and crashing sea. She'd only seen a blooming flower, ready to step away from the wall she'd flourished silently on, ready to face the sun and grow tall and strong as she stepped out into the light.

Hinata returned to her training with renewed vigour.

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**_LATER THAT AFTERNOON_**

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**_Same Location_**

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"Feet closer!" A smack to the back of the head.

"Loosen up dammit!" A light kick to the ankle.

"Keep your spine straight! Don't you dare hunch up on me, mermaid!" A whack to the small of the back.

"Foot further forwards!" Another kick to the back of the foot.

"Sink your weight low! Sweep into the movement!" A light pinching-twist to her ear in punishment.

Hinata had honestly never gotten so many aches just from practicing kata.

It seemed, when it came to teaching and training, Tsumibitoko worked the 'tough love' and 'negative reinforcement' angle—though it seemed pretty light-hearted, completely without malicious intentions.

"Oh for the love of sin—!" Tsumibitoko stepped up behind her, sticking her hands over Hinata's and grabbing her wrists, moving them into position. She was pretty hands-on too, not afraid to get in and move Hinata's limbs around till she was satisfied, though she was surprisingly gentle even with her usual treating-everything-like-furniture-roughness. "There! _Now_ try Kata set ninety-four, doesn't that feel better?" She huffed from behind Hinata, who nodded as she swept in a low circle, hands rising, before sharply whipping down to her hip.

"The way demons fight is supposed to be a dance," Tsumibitoko lectured as she walked around Hinata's form, occasionally whapping a limb here and there with the bendy branch she'd found she liked to wave around and inflict only passing pain with if she found Hinata's body being obstinate. "You need to know this, as a Daemon Cantrix. Water demons movements are elegant and smooth like wraiths, flowing and swerving and twisting around all obstacles and attacks—fire is passion and strength like fierce monsters of spinning flame and vampiric eyes—winds kata are light and airy, barely touching the earth like all that fairy and sparkly gush, and are the fastest motherfuckers you'll ever meet I can tell you—lightning is crackling and disjointed, all vibrant smashing and unpredictability and no delicacy, like fire—and earths movements are fierce tribal dancers, low and stomping and feral, slamming into all and everything with destruction. You see? You have to embody you element in battle, otherwise your kata's won't mesh together and into one another for shit and you'll just fail, your connection won't _connect_ with your fighting style and it won't flow, it won't _work_. _Be_ your element, your connection, your kata's, when you fight, merge with it till using its just second nature, not even thought about."

Oddly enough, her rambling and descriptions helped—Hinata picking wisdom out from between the lines and locking it away like treasure as she thought about her element and movements intensely, trying to embody it as she twisted faster and faster.

"_Sway_ mermaid, dance to the beat of water," Tsumibitoko prodded her with the stick. "Loosen up a little, be boneless, weightless—you've got to let your human body and ties go, _be_ with the water dammit." The branch smacked her on the butt. Hinata squeaked and jumped a little. "Be impervious! See that? That was you getting distracted and letting your mind get clouded by things other than the fight and training! Focus dammit! It's getting distracted that makes your head fill with doubts about yourself, and _that_ makes you falter, and _that_ makes you fail and then it's just a vicious, endless cycle. Be dauntless!"

Tsumibitoko suddenly popped up in front of Hinata, pulling her mouth wide with her fingers and crossing her eyes as her tongue lolled out. Hinata's eyes popped wide and she tried not to snort into a giggle as she ducked into her next kata smoothly, her eyes determinedly avoiding her demon attempting to distract the heiress with flailing in her personal space and breathing on the back of her neck like a creeper. It was more amusing than anything, but if she laughed till her stomach hurt like she wanted too she'd get hit with that stick again.

Hinata calmed herself a little and breathed, focusing and drawing through the motions, turning again in a low, smooth slide that dragged her arms around her like feathers. She suspected most of these were tailored to fighting while using your water connection, weapons of liquid snapping and slicing through the air on her fingertips, else they'd just be a very pretty, unusual dance otherwise. _'**Water ballet**'…Oh lord, Naruto-kun's rubbing off on me more than I thought… _Hinata's lips twitched spasmodically as Tsumibitoko wailed like a ghost and mockingly babbled something about Hyuuga ancestors rising from the grave to exact vengeance on their clans worthless failings, something about how _the sticks up Hyuuga asses were bigger in our day and the icy-popsicle disposition of the Hyuuga is meeeeeeltiiiiiiiing you useless descendants, **meeeeelttiiiiiiiiiiiing**! _wiggling her body and arms over her head as she 'floated' around the heiress, who was straining to laugh even as she scolded herself weakly.

Hinata tried to distract herself by mentally making notes as she twisted through the forms elegantly, observing where she could alter and slip in some Gentle Fist, a kick, a punch, where she could break an opening in her enemy's defence, where she could improve it to more fit and tailor to herself. It was liberating and strange, that was for sure.

Hinata's eyes popped wide, and she faltered a little in shock at the sight of a very proper, prim, ramrod straight old man standing before her. His mouth was drawn in a pompous, dramatic downward curve, two tails of his moustache hanging down, the tall straight hat on his head signifying nobility—his hands were tucked in each long sleeve, an image of aristocracy and suitability.

She almost fell over as his creaky knees suddenly bent to the sides in a not-nearly-a-crouch and he held out his hands, beginning what- what looked _awfully_ like him smacking something with his wrinkly hand as he held it down in that dance-move some teenagers did as he bobbed up and down—beginning to speak straight and rigidly in his cultured, snobbish voice. "Smack that. All on the floor. Smack that. Give me some more."

Hinata burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Idiot!" The old man squawked in Tsumibitoko's voice, scowling as she brandished her stick from somewhere righteously. "You let yourself get distracted!"

Hinata just laughed breathlessly as the old man huffed. "I-I can't b-b-b-_believe_ y-you just—" and then she was off again, bent double as her stomach convulsed painfully, tears streaming down her cheeks. The old man blushed a little, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders like an embarrassed child, the branch sticking out. A shimmer and a drift of what looked like dirt, and Tsumibitoko was standing there, looking mutinous and sulky.

"You're never going to be able to take me seriously ever again, are you?" She asked flatly.

Hinata just shook her head as the mirth made her mute, giggling with such force it was silent. She hadn't laughed that hard _ever_.

Tsumibitoko smacked her again with the stick, eyes closed as her eyebrow ticked madly. "Certain things must be sacrificed in order for me to TEACH YOU TO FOCUS!" The branch was back again and it was relentless.

"Ow—ow—_ahahaha_—Tsumibito—itai!" Hinata giggled, trying to fend off the stick and wipe tears from the corners of her eyes. Who knew her demon really had a sense of humor and an idiot side? Tsumibitoko could clown and goof around after all.

"Ah! Alright, a-alright, I'll focus!" Hinata giggled, pushing the branch away.

"You bet your sweet ass you will!" Tsumibitoko announced, turning and marching away, waving the branch in circles over her head. "Kata's! From the top!"

Hinata sighed in fond exasperation and returned to her practice—this time successfully ignoring Tsumibitoko's distractions, no matter how amusing.

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**AN:** By the way, no one yet has had conniptions of righteous fangirl/boy Naruto-defending fury in response to the last chapter—_I actually got an agreement, ha! Take that Masashi Kishimoto! Thanks sama-kawaii25, I didn't see that one coming!_—but I just thought that would just be the way Tsumibitoko, as a character in her own right, would react. So, if I offended anyone, sorry I guess. Although actually, I did somehow manage to convince _myself_ a bit with Tsumibitoko's righteous spiel—since I didn't see it quite from that angle before I started writing that chapter. Though really, Naruto was a bit of an oblivious dumbass about that confession…maybe he makes up the brownie points by freaking the fuck out and going all psycho fox-demon on Pein's ass when he thought Hinata died…?

Don't know if I'm finally starting to believe my own bullshit or Tsumibitoko's arguments actually made some sort of sense…

But, dearies don't fret, Naruto shall realize his foolish idiocy and there SHALL be NARUxHINA luvs! *poses on rock as sea crashes behind, fist pumps*


End file.
